|From L to R, back row: Bennet, Kelly, Karen, Sara and Mike.|
Front row: Jess, me, Abby, LeeAnn, Leighann. Photo credit: Bennet.
Lately I've made a lot of beverage switches - absolving myself of Splenda in my morning coffee, avoiding soda and choosing tea or Crystal Light Pure instead, and when it comes to social drinking I've been calling a glass of wine over to my team more often than my fruity "girly drinks" of yore. You know the ones - cranberry vodkas with lime (which I've recently learned are named Cape Cods - sounds much more fancy), those sugar bombs called Fuzzy Navels, and the deliciously evil combination of pineapple juice and cake-flavored vodka. At some point I realized how quickly I guzzle those drinks, whereas a glass of wine I tend to sip in a more reasonable and ladylike manner.
It hit me, as the liquid disappeared down my throat, the reason I might be consuming those types of drinks so quickly.
It's a reflex.
Ever since I was a child, juice has been a form of medicine. Orange juice, in particular, was something to be administered in one continuous gulp as I struggled to hold the glass; shaking, sweating and completely out of sorts. The taste of oranges signals panic. Fear. Desperation. It amplifies the screaming in my head that says to EAT EVERYTHING EVER RIGHT NOW OMG I'M DYING.
Why did I expect that to be different as an adult, and with something else added to it?
I'd be interested to hear if anyone else has found this to be true - does anyone else feel like they'll never be able to drink a glass of juice like a "normal" person?