And it involved this picture…
…me pouring Diet Pepsi into a Coca-Cola glass.
Because that’s how I roll these days.
Living on the edge.
Going against the grain.
A rebel without a cause.
A force to be reckoned with.
Basically, I’m scary, so watch out!
I may just go pouring Diet Pepsi in your Coca-Cola glass. Cause I’m b-b-b-bad to the bone like that.
(excuse me a second while I go giggle over that)
(okay, I’m back)
So I wanted to explain my reckless behavior to you all. Because how can a Texas girl like moi’ even drink Diet Pepsi in the first place? Coke is a SOUTHERN thing. (And I’ve already told you… us Texans are Southerners, not Westerners, so get it right!)
So, how did this happen? Where did this start? Why do my thighs jiggle? Who turned me away from my beloved Coke?
These are all questions that beg to be asked. (Especially the jiggly thigh one, but I think you can all figure out how that happened.)
So here’s my story.
A story of betrayal.
A story of dissension.
A story *pause* of hope.
(I’m not dramatic at all folks, really.)
It started, *pause for effect* on a cold winter day about 3 years ago.
I was at a party. A party with our church people. A party to watch some *waves hand dismissively* football game.
So it should go without saying I was in the kitchen hanging out with the food.
Hey. I didn’t get jiggly thighs from watching football people. I don’t watch football, I hang out with the food. Got that?
Anyway, I was thirsty. The crackers and chips and dips and cheese had parched me to my very core.
But alas! There was nothing to drink but water, Diet Pepsi, and Ginger Ale.
So I rolled the dice. I took a chance. I went for the Diet Pepsi, even though I was a die-hard coke fan for most of my life.
I don’t know what came over me.
Maybe it was due to the fact that I lived in “the North” and hadn’t drank an ice cold Coke in a long, long time.
Maybe it was due to the fact that I never could get the hang of Diet Coke because it tastes NOTHING like real Coke (can I get a witness?).
Maybe it was because I was at some football game party and nothing made sense in the world at that moment.
At any rate, I poured myself a cup of Diet Pepsi. And I drank. I drank and I drank. Then I drank some more. (Uh, I said I was thirsty people).
And I was surprisingly refreshed. And I surprisingly felt like I had just drank a Coke instead of a Diet Pepsi.
And that’s when it hit me!
Diet Pepsi tastes more like Coke than Diet Coke does!
Suddenly the noise of the football game on the television was drowned out by a heavenly host of Diet Pepsi angels singing. I had seen the light! I had drank deep of the goodness of what is known as Diet Pepsi! And I had found a diet drink that tasted like Coke without the calories!
It was a life-altering moment.
One that I knew my proud Coca-Cola loyal family would never understand. Especially my brother who tells his students every new school year, “I like to drink Coke. Not Pepsi, not Sam’s Choice, not RC Cola, not Diet Rite… COKE.”
Yes, I knew they would think this was a “phase” I was going through. Kind of like the time when this little Baptist Texas girl went off to an Assembly of God Bible college and found herself engaged to a Yankee aspiring Assembly of God Pastor.
Yes, it would be that all over again.
So I kept my secret love of Diet Pepsi hidden. Until now.
Okay, not really. It just sounded better that way.
But I did hear things like… traitor! blasphemer! dissenter! shame on you!
I felt like the girl with the scarlet letter. Except not.
And before you leave me a bunch of comments about how there’s Coke Zero and other such things out there now, it’s too late for that….
Hello. My name is Stacey. And I’m a Diet Pepsi convert. It pains me to say it, but it’s true. And I’m afraid I. could. never go back.
All you Southerners be warned!
This is what living in the North will do to you!
So SAVE YOURSELVES!! It’s too late for me! I’ve crossed over to the other side. The dark side. The Diet Pepsi side.
Goodbye my dear Coca-Cola, goodbye!
P.S. Diet Pepsi in no way sponsored this absurd, but true story. I wrote this on my own accord. Yes, my own little sad accord. Which I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to read about. But not as much as Coke will.