So, remember when I gave up Diet Coke?
It, really, was one of the best things I have done for myself. And then there was the whole unexpected weight-loss wrinkle, which I am most certainly not complaining about, except when it comes to Droopy Pants Syndrome. But now I’m ready to complain, because, you guys, I went to a bar with some lovely ladies on Saturday night and
I panicked.
I mean, I’ll be honest, I’m not much of a drinker. I drink socially, only. I drink wine with certain friends because, well, we always drink wine with them, even though all I can think while I’m drinking it is that scene when Lucy and Ethel are smashing grapes with their feet and even though I realize that this is not the standard method of how wine gets made these days, it’s all I can see.
Feet. And grapes. And kerchiefs.
And when I actually do have a drink, it’s shocking if I even manage to finish a single one. I am a nurser, by nature, because the control freak in me doesn’t like giving up any control of any kind. (It’s true, you should see me on the subway when all my poor tired body wants to do is sleep but controllyAli just won’t let it happen. I have gone as far as turning the music way up and pinching myself.)
You will never see me sleep on the subway and you will never see me drunk.
These are truths.
They are not truths I am proud of, but truths nonetheless.
But anyway, for years, my drink of choice has been a diet coke and vodka. I mean, sure, occasionally, I change it up a bit with a beer or a vodka gimlet (how very Betty Draper of me) or a Tom Collins or a vodka soda or a gin & tonic, even though I don’t actually even really like gin & tonics and think they kind of, sort of taste like what I clean my kitchen table with, but I figure that like coffee, they may just be an acquired taste, and maybe one day I will grow to enjoy gin & tonics. Maybe. But probably not.
Hit me up, Internets. What’s your drink of choice? I need a replacement for my beloved diet coke and vodkas. Because Betty Draper certainly never had to tell a waitress that she was going to need another ten minutes to read the drink menu twelve times to come up with an acceptable drink. It’s mortifying.Â