Flat

Nope. Not my soda. My tire. I got a flat this morning. Oh, goody, more points!

Nothing much was happening just now, so I took my break.

The soda thing really is gross. I drink it all day long. I’m going to burn a hole in my stomach.

I need to cut way, way down.

I won’t try to quit. I always go back to it. And cold turkey is too stressful, anyway. One giant project at a time.

I’d eventually like to get off of artificial sweetener altogether. It’s terrible for you. I mean, I’ve heard horror stories about what’s actually in it.

When I was Tiny Leah, I drank regular Coke. I can’t do that, anymore. But I’m to understand that drinking diet soda may actually contribute to weight gain, because it spikes your sugar cravings.

No matter what, it’s not good. Diet, regular, reduced calorie. All soda. All bad. Maybe not in moderation.

But I don’t do moderation with soda.

It’s a damned appendage. It’s like cigarettes used to be for some people, always having to have a cigarette in one hand? That’s soda for me.

On an unrelated note: my sweater today is a color not dissimilar to my skin tone, and falls in just such a way that every time I look down, I think I’m seeing boob, and I go “WHOAH!”

Prepare for fallout.