Confessions of a Chain-Coker

Hi, my name is Paul Hamilton and I'm an addict.

My addiction? I'm a Diet Coke-head.

My love affair with this bubbly, sweet, calorie-free beverage has been going on for more years than I can count. I'm hooked. It's forever.

Of course there are naysayers who want me to give up my true love. They try to scare me with things like, the aspartame will kill you (and it might), the aspartame will cause your brain lining to rot (and it might), the aspartame will trick your body into producing more insulin and cause weight gain (give me a break, it's zero calories). Nope, I'm not scared.

My love is strong.

That said, Diet Coke (or DC — my pet name) and I do not see each other as often as we used to. There was time when we were inseparable. DC would spend all day by my side. We went shopping, to the movies, out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, took drives in the car. We vacationed together. DC came to work with me everyday. We went to every meeting together, always there for support.

DC even became part of our company culture. The sound a new can cracking open meant Paul had arrived. Half empty cans would be found around the office — proof I had been there. The recycling bin piled high: the tell-tale signs of a Chain-Coker.

At my peak, I would drink roughly 12, 13 cans a day. One first thing in the morning, one on the way to work, two before lunch, one at lunch, two or three in the afternoon, one on the way home, and three or four before bed. There were even times that I would wake up in the middle of the night, go downstairs to the kitchen, crack open my DC, chug it, and go back to bed.

Some days the only water to to touch my lips was when I brushed my teeth.

That's when I knew that my love had turned to obsession. So, I decided to give it up . Not because it would kill me, or eat my brain lining, or make me fat (still don't buy that), but because a person needs some water sometimes and I needed to see if I could do it.

So that was it, no Diet Coke. Everyone rejoiced. And surprisingly it wasn't that hard. But as the weeks went on, I missed it. I missed the cracking can, I missed the cold bubbles, I missed it all. I started to drink one or two a week — A WEEK. That was will-power. But then I thought, "I could still have one a day, couldn't I?" Of course I could. Who was going to stop me? And as long as I was drinking plenty of water, that was fine with me.

So, how did it all net out? Well, I drink around 2 or 3 cans per day. I'm happy. That's as low as I can go. Don't ask for more. I love it and I want it!

And... zero calories never made anyone fat. There, I said it.

Now what?

Do it: Drink more Diet Coke... kidding. Drink it if you want to, but also drink your eight glasses of water. I like to take a big 1.5 litre bottle to work and drink it all day. Few more glasses at night and I'm good.

Eat it: BBQ homemade hamburger with salad

Work out with it: Uprising - Muse

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