Breaking Point

There's nothing new about what I choose to eat, as these goods are familiar to my system after years of relatively unvaried selection.  What is new is the pain derived from their ingestion.  I rely on foods that are "lean" and "low-cal", which almost always translates as "nutrient deficient" and/or "chemically-altered" (i.e. products marketed towards women dieters).  My pantry has expanded dramatically in the last half-decade, especially when, as recently as 2007-2008, I lasted for a full year on the same single daily meal.  In my head I have convinced myself these provisions are wholesome and natural, and some of my favorites might indeed be just that:  winter squash, romaine lettuce, baked salmon, skinless breasts of chicken or turkey, egg whites with onion, boiled artichoke, raw or gently prepped carrots, yams/sweet potatoes, mushrooms (cooked, not spicy), eggplant, a steamed medley of broccoli/pea pods/water chestnuts, Puffed Kashi cereal, air-popped popcorn (with Nutritional Yeast powder as topping), the juice of pressed almonds, organic apples (Fuji, Braeburn, Granny Smith, or Red Delicious), bananas, lemon juice, herbal teas, and, on rare occasion, Greek yoghurt.  Others are a bit of a question mark and include Egg Beaters, Boca Burgers, homemade Irish Soda Bread (discussed in previous essays as an "empty-calorie" white flour loaf), Bragg's Liquid Aminos (a variation on soy sauce), microwavable SmartPop from Orville Redenbacher's (a division of GMO-friendly ConAgra), plant-derived Orgain nutritional shakes, Soy Slender sugar-free soy milk, Oat Fit flavored instant oatmeal, Lactaid cottage cheese, Dannon Light and Fit yoghurt,  Ensure or Boost (for weight gain or maintenance), yellow mustard, sugar-free pickles, iceberg lettuce, fruity seltzer waters, Pinkberry frozen dessert (now officially made with live cultures), sea or table salt.  Then, there are the obvious offenders:  I Can't Believe It's Not Butter spray (a Unilever product and the only component of my diet with a contraction in its title), Pam nonstick cooking oils, Jello no-sugar pudding mixes (I purchase the pistachio and butterscotch varieties for use with almond milk), Nature Valley "100% Natural" granola bars (containing high fructose corn syrup, thus seldom preferred), and the worst, most frequent contender of them all, diet soda.  Of the latter, I primarily purchase caffeine-free Diet Coke and Fresca, but on occasion will indulge in a single bottle of Diet IBC Rootbeer.  All three --with emphasis on the last two-- have had the marked effect of leaving me "stupified" (as I call it), or in a dopey mental haze.  This recognizable and frightening symptom is what persuaded me to quit these beverages "cold turkey" in the summer of my freshman year of college.  I successfully stayed off said noxious libations until April of 2004, relying instead on fruit-infused flat waters from healthfood stores, Bengal Spice tea (Celestial Seasonings), seltzers of generic brand, and Folgers instant decaf coffee singles.  When I relapsed, it was deep and absolute; I have been on a non-stop pop bender these nine intervening years.  In the last twelve months alone I likely averaged an obscene thre-liter-per-day habit.  No joke.

For as long as I can remember I have possessed a remarkably robust thirst.  As a child I would satisfy these cravings with cranberry juice and a citrus concoction called Five-Alive, while my mother would pack berry Juicy Juice boxes amid brown bag lunches.  I would also stir chocolatey Ovaltine into tall tumblers of skim milk, believing it to be especially nutritious (as opposed to  Nestle syrups).  But any consumption of such libations ceased when I hit age twelve or thirteen.  The only "liquid calories" I have been in the habit to take are my low-calorie soy or almond milks or, as prescribed by nutritionists, vitamin-packed shakes.  I do indeed fancy carrot juice with ginger and have recently been exposed to the staggeringly, surprisingly delicious concoction of coconut-kale smoothies.  However, I am not positioned in a set-up that would have me pressing or blending these on a regular basis, nor can I guarantee I would readily submit to any cravings.  I try to always have a refrigerator stocked with cold Evian,  even though I carry concerns for the environmental impact of bottled waters.  The milky notes detectable in this brand help cajole me away from the always-tempting refreshment of chilled colas.  However, this is never a long-term distraction, as I service and silence my hunger at meals with the swelling rush of sweet bubbles in a decanted Diet Coke.

I have heard for years that soft drinks are a health threat, but I always dismissed this as related to varieties containing corn syrup, caffeine, and high sodium levels.  I even convinced myself that the caramel coloring was naturally derived.  But what defense is there for the remaining ingredients, including aspartame, phosphoric acid, or potassium benzoate?  It's probably a good rule of thumb to never consume what you cannot pronounce or, if pressed, define (given that you are speaking in your native language).  Any effortless internet search will yield pages upon pages of research pointing to carbonation as a process yielding porous bones, particularly in women drinkers.  I have been aware of the reduced mass and density of my own skeleton for the last decade, when I was first warned of developing osteopenia.  Now, after a series of rolling injuries (starting with a dislodged hip in November), I can cite proof in my own body that my addiction to diet colas is poisoning me.  For, between February and early April, I have seen both my ankles give way to what appear to be cracked fibulas.  I have been hobbled to such an extent that I was at one point outfitted with a walking cast on my left leg, which incidentally placed enough stress on my right side to have it also see a fracture develop.  I attributed these breaks to my steadfast practice of walking anywhere and everywhere, assuming that I had somehow placed an unbearable strain onto my heels.  While this might be true, there is little doubt now in my mind that the chemically-laced drinks I rely on have had a depleting effect on the precious few vitamins I manage to take in, thus jeopardizing the strength of my osteological system.  I know I have been anemic in the past, which is more of a circulatory concern but one also related to malnourishment.  The notion that I would be similarly deficient elsewhere in my body is only par for the course.

Pain is how we alert ourselves that something is amiss within.  I do not actively swallow aspirin or related medicines lest I dull the message relayed.  Now that I have recognized the distress call radiating from my lower limbs, I am committing to the proven remedy of blunt sobriety, or the complete removal of carbonated beverages from my lifestyle.  I have already carried six 2-liter bottles, three on each arm in canvas slings, from my pantry to the local grocer's market, exchanging them for produce totaling $12.81.  I am going to finish-off the last of my microwave popcorn while I still have a few cans of Diet Coke, as they pair well.  Once both supplies are exhausted, I plan to only eat air-popped kernels (seasoned with cheesy Nutritional Yeast powder with salt, butter spray, and/or Bragg's) and to base my consumption of liquids on water mixtures (such as from lemon juice, mint leaves, or tea).  It can certainly be said that my enthusiasm for soda pop has radically diminished in the last forty-eight hours, as all I can taste within a frothy glass  is illness and fear.  I do not want to lose my legs to brittle stalks, nor see my teeth bow to corroded, stained enamel.  As of here and now, my once keen regard for commercial tonics has ...fizzled.

When one's bones are cracking, everyday arrangements at the market take on new meaning.
Ironically, these brands were observed while waiting in line to return my bottles of Diet Coca-Cola.
Recall the KitKat marketing slogan:  "Gimme A Break"; the Crunch packages depict fracturing.