“You sound like you’re talking about quitting a class A drug,” my friend said, incredulously. I’d been telling her about what happened when I tried to give up my Diet Coke habit — about the sweats and shakes that followed, along with a thirst that no amount of water could quench.
“I had a week-long migraine that made me see black spots every time they opened,” I continued. “I’m telling you, it was really tough.”
I’d be lying if I said I ever managed to quit Diet Coke completely, but it’s no longer a necessary fixture of my day. Ten years ago it was a different story. Back then I was living in Strasbourg, on the French-German border, directly opposite an innocuous little corner shop. I worked long days from home, teaching English — and one particularly hot and busy summer, with no time between tutoring sessions to venture further, my corner shop visits ramped up.
Photo: AFP
The tiny store didn’t have much in the way of cold drinks — just water, regular Coke and Diet Coke. Water I could get at home, I reasoned, and regular Coke was far too sweet, so I went for Diet.
My “little treat.”
Pretty soon, though, I was treating myself three times a day — on a good day. It became the first thing I drank in the morning and the last thing before bed, often replacing water entirely. I loved the sound of the ring-pull piercing through the lid; the cool, fizzy liquid; the buzz that would follow as it awakened my senses.
“It’s not as bad as normal Coke,” I told myself, remembering the shocking information I’d seen illustrating how much sugar goes into a single can of the hard stuff.
Still, it was becoming abundantly clear that it wasn’t good for me. The sweetener used in Diet Coke, aspartame, was being increasingly linked to cancer, though experts now say it’s safe in the doses commonly consumed. It has also been linked to an increased risk of stroke.
This, plus my own fixation on the drink, terrified me. I found myself thinking about it constantly — when I could have one, how that first sip tasted. I wasn’t sleeping well and felt more irritable. I got a headache if I didn’t have it before 9am. I had rules: no bottles, no variations (the caffeine-free and lime versions are an abomination), definitely no Pepsi. It had to be ice-cold Diet Coke, from a can, ideally served in a glass with ice. That cracking sound the ring-pull made as it was lifted had me salivating like Pavlov’s dog. I was hooked.
Initially, I tried lowering my intake, popping out to grab one once a headache started to take hold. But I often felt sluggish in the afternoons, especially as I didn’t like other caffeinated drinks.
Pretty soon I started breaking my own rule and upping my daily quota to two. That meant 14 cans a week, or 4,620 milliliters. I was still thinking about it constantly.
I decided that going cold turkey was the only way to stop me obsessing. The headaches, tiredness, irritability and sweats I experienced in the week that followed were a drag to pull myself through, but I did it. I also forced myself to start drinking tea in the mornings, which helped ease my headaches.
Now I rarely drink Diet Coke at all, but I still experience a yearning for it whenever I see someone else enjoying a can. Very occasionally, on holiday or at special events, I’ll indulge, but I have to quickly have a word with myself otherwise it’ll snowball into becoming an everyday fixture again.
The realization that Diet Coke had such a hold on me, coupled with my withdrawal symptoms, was (and remains) enough to scare me off; my body as well as my bank balance have thanked me for quitting. Yet, as bad as it got, I don’t think I’ll ever feel indifferent about the beverage. I can’t imagine a time when, on seeing it, I don’t fantasize about the hiss of the ring-pull, the sight of the beads of condensation running down the can — or the thrill of that first, beautiful sip.
Recently the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and its Mini-Me partner in the legislature, the Taiwan People’s Party (TPP), have been arguing that construction of chip fabs in the US by Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co (TSMC, 台積電) is little more than stripping Taiwan of its assets. For example, KMT Legislative Caucus First Deputy Secretary-General Lin Pei-hsiang (林沛祥) in January said that “This is not ‘reciprocal cooperation’ ... but a substantial hollowing out of our country.” Similarly, former TPP Chair Ko Wen-je (柯文哲) contended it constitutes “selling Taiwan out to the United States.” The two pro-China parties are proposing a bill that
Institutions signalling a fresh beginning and new spirit often adopt new slogans, symbols and marketing materials, and the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) is no exception. Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文), soon after taking office as KMT chair, released a new slogan that plays on the party’s acronym: “Kind Mindfulness Team.” The party recently released a graphic prominently featuring the red, white and blue of the flag with a Chinese slogan “establishing peace, blessings and fortune marching forth” (締造和平,幸福前行). One part of the graphic also features two hands in blue and white grasping olive branches in a stylized shape of Taiwan. Bonus points for
March 9 to March 15 “This land produced no horses,” Qing Dynasty envoy Yu Yung-ho (郁永河) observed when he visited Taiwan in 1697. He didn’t mean that there were no horses at all; it was just difficult to transport them across the sea and raise them in the hot and humid climate. “Although 10,000 soldiers were stationed here, the camps had fewer than 1,000 horses,” Yu added. Starting from the Dutch in the 1600s, each foreign regime brought horses to Taiwan. But they remained rare animals, typically only owned by the government or
“M yeolgong jajangmyeon (anti-communism zhajiangmian, 滅共炸醬麵), let’s all shout together — myeolgong!” a chef at a Chinese restaurant in Dongtan, located about 35km south of Seoul, South Korea, calls out before serving a bowl of Korean-style zhajiangmian —black bean noodles. Diners repeat the phrase before tucking in. This political-themed restaurant, named Myeolgong Banjeom (滅共飯館, “anti-communism restaurant”), is operated by a single person and does not take reservations; therefore long queues form regularly outside, and most customers appear sympathetic to its political theme. Photos of conservative public figures hang on the walls, alongside political slogans and poems written in Chinese characters; South
RSS