The (Un) Holy Trinity

I'm pretty sure that I'm growing teeth out of my eyeballs. And if you consume the unholy trinity of carcinogenic beverages with the same commitment that I do, then you, too, may be feeling your molars coming in through your corneas.

The first branch of this dietary triumvirate is - of course - caffeine.

I begin the day with about four cups and continue until until I can smell my own breath. I love the ritual of holding with both hands my hot mug until that bitter nectar of the gods is cool enough to sip, and then topping it off repeatedly throughout the morning to keep it warm. Yay.

Everyone has a quirk or two, and my coffee quirk is that I must have my first cup of coffee while letting my dog out after she eats. This makes me infinitely happy. The coffee maker is making its last gutteral sounds, like a king's digestive tract after he finishes yet another turkey leg, and I pour into my fruity-themed ceramic mug the results of its boisterous struggle. Then I say, "Want to go out? You do? Good girl! Let's go out!", open the door, send her on her way, and watch from the deck with my toasty little cup. Strangely, it's a happy place of mine.

But by late morning I'm bored with coffee, yet still appreciate a semi-naughty beverage to carry me until lunchtime. Hence the second branch - aspartame.

I love Diet Coke best from a crisp silver can and don't really care about the potential side effects of aluminum, rat poison, teeth-staining properties or anything else. I live for the moment.

I extract immense joy from placing my can into my car's cup holder as I run errands, instinctively reaching to it for my pleasure like a dirty old man to his favorite long-time prostitute. It's there for me when I want it, and it never lets me down.

When I came home with some new cute clothes last week, one item being a white t-shirt, the first thing Jim said was, "That's begging for a Diet Coke stain." And I beg for my Diet Coke. It's a symbiotic relationship.

Diet Coke goes best with a fresh box of Goldfish, and like my coffee, I nurse the drink throughout the day. Twelve ounces goes a long way in my world, because I do limit myself to one can (usually), and I'm always reluctant to say goodbye.

But when I do bid adieu to my mid-day confection, I only have a few hours to go until it's time for that last - but definitely not least - winner in my personal trifecta.

Gee, can you guess what it is???

Oh, yes - when five o'clock hits, and it's time to start cooking dinner, out comes the baddest, the boldest, the bawdiest of the three.

Watch out, people - here comes the alcohol.

Not that I go crazy, but I do look forward to my evening glass of red wine. And like the Diet Coke, I make it work for me, dipping my tongue into my glass as I stir my sauce, then lifting the stem a couple of times throughout dinner, and saving the rest for my downtime after the kids go to bed. Maybe - just maybe - I'll pour another inch into my glass on occassion. But red wine is a staple in my house, much like milk, ice cubes, and '30 Rock'.

Those recent reports tauting the benefits of a little red wine for one's heart? Woo-hoo! Hell, YEAH I'm taking advantage of that!!!

Those other recent reports citing the correlation between alcohol and breast cancer? Uh, must not have seen it; don't know what you're talking about...

I really don't mean to sound so blaise about something as serious as cancer. But I take pretty good care of myself, have put my body through three births, still have to endure monthly mood swings and daily homework battles and after school activities. Isn't it okay that I indulge in my trio of positive mental health??? My other indulgence is M&M's, and while I haven't read any studies on the potential side effects of those little pearls of chocolate love, I do know that they make me fat and zitty. Especially since I go for the party bags.

So for now I'm just going to stick my head in the sand - er, mug, can, and bottle - and pretend that these things aren't so bad for me, if not downright good for me. By the time I do develop any alarming health problems as a result, my kids will all be grown and I will have time to commit to treatments.

And if that doesn't work, at least I'll be able to eat more M&M's with my eyelids.