That's pretty embarrassing to type, even 5 years later
After maybe 6 months, I started getting heart palpitations. Fearing for my life and convicted of my mom's refusal to allow us even one sip of Mountain Dew lest we'd be struck down by God himself, I switched to Diet Coke. Became one of those people. And then I read a bunch of stuff online that pretty much said I'd be better off smoking crystal meth than to let my teeth rot out of my head from drinking diet pop.
5 years of orthodontia-- 2 sets of braces, 1 middle school dumpster diving retainer retrieval, and more hours than I can count reclined in a dental chair with large-busted orthodontic assistants asking me to turn my head more to the right -- All that makes you value your teeth.
So a couple months ago, I bought a fancy water bottle, which Margo dubbed, "Mommy's Sippy," and I scaled back again. So now I'd consider myself a very, very occasional Polar Pop drinker.
Usually when I'm ready to claw my eyes out from a teething baby and a toddler who's been watching the same episode of Dora on Netflix for the past 3 days. In case you wanted to know, Swiper is still up to his same swiping antics. A little Dora goes a long way, but 3 days of the same 20 minute episode??? That would bring just about anyone to her knees begging for mercy. So I hop in the car, fill me up a fountain pop, and eyeball all those other "sugar pop" drinkers who are sure diabetic. If I weren't concerned I'd start a bar fight, I'd wave my finger at them and say "Tisk! tisk!" in my most unapproving tone of voice. But the fact that I'm going with diet, even with all that I've read about it shredding my organs to a pulp, that makes me feel better about myself. Cheers!
But either something has changed at the pop trough, or I've been out to lunch for a very long while.... I'm seeing 44 ounce Styrofoam cups for polar pops. You read that correctly. 44 ounces. They're massive. Like so big I could probably cram my head into one.
You'd think that would cause a major ruckus. But clearly, you haven't been to *my* Circle K. That's nothing compared to the stunts I've seen pulled at this fine establishment, generally by grown men with droopy drawers on little kid bikes. Let's just say I'd recommend applying for your concealed carry permit before you pull into the parking lot. Or at least buy some mace.
Anyway my beef is pretty obvious. 44 ounces of pop?! As if Americans weren't already the butt of all international dialogue.
"Not only do they stuff their faces with fried Snickers bars while telling Chuck Norris jokes and revving their suped up Ford F150s, I've heard they also drink sods in 5-gallon drums!!!!"
There's no denying Americans, at least Midwesterners, are somewhat of a cultural embarrassment. Without getting preachy and going into detail about our horrible diets, let's just all silently agree that we can think of at least one horrific food decision we've made in the last year.
2 sausage, egg, & cheese McGriddles in one day comes to mind for me. Ooops. ;)
I just don't know at what point we're going to draw the line and say, "Ok buddy, it was one thing when you were sucking down 80 ounces of Big Red a day," (yuck, by the way), "but now that you've crossed over to filling the kiddie pool with that garbage and helping yourself to the grandbabies' crazy straws, we're gonna have to throw on the breaks there, pal." Truly, it worries me. It's gluttony. And I do think it's getting worse. Do you remember when the big thing was asking the cashier to "super size" the order? That was like, "Oooooohhhh, Billy must be really hungry tonight!" The super size meal is pretty much standard now, isn't it? If your friend asks for a medium, you almost want to ask if they're on a diet. "Ohhhh, you're saving room for the baked $2 apple pies. That makes sense now."
It's a fine line. I don't want turn into the old lady who tells everyone that back in her day, a Small was the size of a Dixie cup. Clearly that's an exaggeration. But a standard, 4-piece nugget? True story!! I remember when all the containers were Styrofoam, too. But that's a tree-hugging post for another day.
At this point, I'd definitely recommend You-tubing Jim Gaffigan. He has a lot of hilarious (and true!) things to say about food. It's clean humor, so no need to worry about an uncomfortable pause while you change the subject and tell the chit'lins to scadaddle on to bed. I'm all for good, wholesome humor. When my son was 6 weeks old, he could belly laugh. Truly!! The fact that God made little babies to appreciate humor is proof enough for me that we should probably do more laughing. Find things that tickle you. Jim Gaffian is a good start.
So, needless to say, I passed on the 44-ouncer. 32 ounces seems like a much more conservative amount.... right? ;)
