From Coke Zero to zero Coke

I once read about a Buddhist workshop where participants took their sweet time over an orange slice and then a potato chip, thus learning that natural foods reward slow contemplation in a way that processed ones do not.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” I thought, savouring a freshly opened can of Diet Pepsi.

Although my last “normal” eating night involved some beer, a plate of leftover Chinese food and a handful of my fiancée’s fries — all unwise choices, given that I’ve been pretty stomach-sick — the part I really lingered over was the can of Pepsi.

I’m a pop addict with a habit that waxes and wanes, but I can’t look anyone straight in the face and say I’m following a paleolithic diet if it includes two cans of Coke Zero on a typical day.

I’ve never had to give up pop before, so I lingered over every mouthful and swallow as if I was 10 years old again and a can of Pepsi represented a rare treat (I recall most children having their soft drink consumption restricted just a generation ago; it’s funny to think of that now).

I noticed the illusory artificial sweetness; the surprising creaminess of texture; the playful, pricking tickle of the carbonation.

By the way, taking tasting notes for a can of pop, as if you’re K-Pax or something, will earn you a surprised glance from your seatmate.

Meanwhile, zooming along in a streetcar on my way to an appointment I couldn’t reschedule despite being sick, my eye was caught by all the people taking in some early spring, early evening sunshine. I would say 40% of the can of Pepsi disappeared down my throat without my really noticing it. I guess I can live without this stuff for a while.