There was a point in my life when I would have placed people who drank Diet Coke into one of two categories; one would have been incompetent calorie counters and the other would have been old people. It was the concept of Diet Coke that offended me, its selling point was great taste AND fewer calories, and at that point in time the saccharine sweetness was beyond my understanding. As far as the fewer calories were concerned, I didn’t see how that mattered when everyone I knew who drank Diet Coke consumed it in liter quantities daily.
However, I’ve grown to appreciate things I used to ridicule as a child; things like, quiet evenings, jazz music, foreign film, a nice salad, light beer, and Diet Cokes.
Without any pretense, Sold Out flashed when I pushed the button for Coke on the vending machine. The machine belched out my consolation prize, a watered down version of The Real Thing masquerading as something more in a silver can. But the taste didn’t offend me like it used to, something like a fully carbonated flat soda, Diet Coke was speaking a language my more mature, greying palate understood. Not really sure what was being said, but I liked it.
musings from the minivan 