RESTRICTED item. Maximum number reached were the words that flashed up on the self-scan checkout screen.
After several more blundering scanning attempts, a kind employee called over that there was a limit of two bottles per customer.
9
My jaw dropped, the reality of their words forcing me to confront the unthinkable. After 20 years of addiction I was going to have to give up Diet Coke.
I am the first to admit my obsession with a fizzy drink is utterly laughable. Diet Coke (DC) is just an indulgence, but it was an indulgence Id craved since the age of eight.
An indulgence Id drunk two litres of every day of my adult life. I drank it first thing in the morning, last thing at night and many a glug in between.
My unquenchable thirst saw me make moonlit dashes to all-night garages and lug bottles to social events.
9
If eating out, Id have a can in my bag in case DC wasnt on their menu, and when touching down on holiday, securing some Coca Cola Light was the first port of call.
Full lockdown had just been imposed and the limit would mean braving the supermarket every other day to feed my habit.
I briefly considered storming multiple shops and selfishly stocking up, before thinking of all the potential virus exposure via trolley handles and fellow customers.
There was no way of justifying that behaviour, so I decided then and there I would emerge from lockdown fizz-free.
9
Past experience taught me going cold turkey leads to headaches and severe grouchiness, so I decided to wean myself off with alternative drinks. I deliberately splashed out on cans as part of DCs appeal was that it comes in a sealed container making it feel a bit special.
My cunning plan was to get my fizzy fix from diet Fanta and lemonade, while slowly introducing squashes and water.
I had a clear path mapped out and plenty of DC substitutes, but it was still going to mean breaking the habit of a lifetime.
Last year, being told Id have to stay in hospital overnight highlighted just how far Id sunk into DC dependency.
9
I immediately planned to ring my family, email my course leaderand then it hit me.I didnt have any DC. I felt utterly ridiculous, whinging for my pop like a needy child clutching their blankie.
But my embarrassment didnt stop me from ferrying my antibiotic drip down to the hospitals Subway at 1am.
They only had Pepsi Max, which did in a pinch, but the next morning I bounded to the hospital M&S, picking up a toothbrush, toothpaste and three cans of DC.
Ive often asked myself why the hell I love a brown fizzy drink so much. Admittedly each 330ml can contains 46mg of caffeine, but this is paltry compared to an Americanos 225mg.
9
I simply love the taste, which has a slight sharpness undercutting the sweetness.
I love the fizzing release of air when you first open the bottle, and the slightly acrid blast of CO from clicking open a can.
I love the rapid explosion of bubbles, like tiny fireworks and I savour hearing that ongoing symphony beside me as I work.
I love the feel of those bubbles effervescing over my tongue, tickling the back of my throat as they go down.
Yep, I was utterly hooked, not just to the syrupy liquid, but also to the emotional connection with drinking it.
Past experience taught me going cold turkey leads to headaches and severe grouchiness, so I decided to wean myself off with alternative drinks. I deliberately splashed out on cans as part of DCs appeal was that it comes in a sealed container making it feel a bit special
Substances like nicotine and alcohol are biochemically psychoactive, meaning they cause dopamine to flood our brains reward centre resulting in feelings of pleasure.
However, positive associations with an innocuous substance or activity can result in them becoming psychologically psychoactive meaning the same reward circuitry is activated when partaking.
From my first glass at my Godmothers house I connected DC with being grown up, slim and successful.
The infamous Diet Coke break campaign was in full swing, involving a musclebound Adonis draining his 11.30am can while a gaggle of women observed droolingly.
9
My malleable eight-year-old brain concluded that Diet Coke was sexy, and helped attractive people stay healthy and thin. In fact, recent studies suggest that aspartame (the primary sweetener used in DC) can disrupt the bodys digestive enzymes, leading to metabolic syndrome and weight gain.
Not that Im blaming my sizeable proportions on DC, but sugar-free does not always equal healthy. I did occasionally wonder if I was actually fat, or just filled with DC bubbles. Turns out its the former.
Some scientists also believe DC saps the bones of calcium, which crosses my mind every time my knees creak.
However, as a child, DC was something that tasted nice and was almost calorie-free, making it the ultimate treat.
9
A can on Sundays became a weekly bottle on the family shopping list.
By 13, I was buying a second bottle with a money from a cleaning job, which increased to a third as I began babysitting.
By 16, I was buying three bottles to last from Monday to Friday with another 2 litres at the weekend.
At university my weekly habit increased to five bottles, which Id haul back from Kwik Save in my wheelie suitcase.
When I entered the world of work, my weekly shopping list included fruit, veg, toilet roll and seven bottles of DC as standard.
After finally passing my driving test, I began bulk buying and would get up to 20 bottles a time, especially if there was a special offer on.
Unsurprisingly my kitchen cupboards couldnt handle my stash, so my car boot became commonly known as my wine cellar with the crescendo of rolling bottles adding percussion to my journeys.
There were so many reasons to quit, not least the expense.
9
Id spend at least 15 a week on DC, which I likened to grabbing a daily macchiato.
A less defendable factor was the huge quantity of plastic I produced which no amount of cloth bags and bamboo toothbrushes could offset.
But I felt like DC was something I needed to function, a tonic which energised and spurred me on, especially during work.
Recently a job required me to spend around six hours a day in the car, which I managed by chugging DC, then throwing the empty cans in the footwell behind the passengers seat.
After a few days, I winced with shame at the accumulated pile of aluminium. I knew that this couldnt go on.
So, with lockdown in full force, it was now or never. I began introducing the substitute cans while tapering off the DC.
When I finished the last bottle, my knee jerk reaction was to buy more, but instead I clicked open a can of diet Dr Pepper.
9
Slowly, I began replacing the cans with squash, keeping bottles of tap water in the fridge so it would be chilled and felt like more of a treat.
Despite my efforts, I felt imbalanced, fidgety, and was regularly popping paracetamol to deal with withdrawal headaches.
Focusing on work was especially hard without a grounding pint of DC at my elbow, to the extent that on my first attempt, I quaffed three litres of diluted tropical squash in a single afternoon.
But, after much dithering and experimentation with my soda stream, no DC is the new normal.
Its a pleasure not having to lug a bottle up to bed, or make regular trips to my wine cellar in the rain.
A welcome side effect is that I am considerably less windy, and no longer propelled along by a constant stream of CO.
Admittedly, Im still downing around two bottles of squash per week, but this is lessening slowly.
As lockdown achievements go, giving up a soft drink is a world away from mastering the trumpet or gaining a coding diploma.
But, getting over the fizzy brown hump is something I could never imagine doing under normal circumstances.
Lockdown forced me to consider what is really essential and for the first time in 20 years, Diet Coke is not on that list.
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See more here:
I was a Diet Coke addict who guzzled 28 litres a WEEK but lockdown has finally helped me kick my 20-year habit - The Sun
