I started lying to my mom about Diet Coke

“I had three Diet Cokes today,” I told my mom, already knowing it wasn’t true. I had five.

   The lie itself wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even necessary. That’s what made it uncomfortable. I’m twenty-three years old, and somewhere between budgeting groceries and calling my parents more than I’d like to admit, I realized I was lying about a caffeinated soda. That realization stuck with me longer than the caffeine ever did.

   I am twenty-three years old, and lately, I’ve noticed that the smallest habits tend to reveal the biggest truths. Each year brings new quirks, new patterns, and new things I didn’t realize were shaping my daily life. Growing older feels scary in the way that growth usually does—uncomfortable, but necessary.

   Some parts of myself are easy to recognize, sitting right in front of me. Others take time, distance, and a few therapy sessions to uncover. What I’ve learned is that self-improvement isn’t tied to age—it’s tied to noticing.

  I love Diet Coke in a way that feels almost stereotypical for a blonde-haired white girl my age. What started as a casual preference slowly turned into a routine, then a lifestyle.

  Then I cracked open a can whenever I could, made intentional stops for McDonald’s Diet Coke—the superior version, as we all know—and by college, the guy working at the gas station had one ready for me before my morning class.

  And I know I am not the only one when reaching for the silver can. The “fridge cigarette,” as it’s commonly referred to, has become the modern version of taking a break.

   But when is too much, too much?

   I knew it was excessive long before I admitted it out loud. When Diet Coke became something I had to budget for, it wasn’t information I shared with my parents or anyone else. But the moment I started lying to my mom about how many I’d had, embarrassment set in. That was when it stopped feeling like a harmless habit and started to feel like a problem.

  Watching other people drink something so simple made my own habit feel heavier. When they had a soda, I had a fixation. Even watching people overindulge made it harder, because it seemed simpler for them.

   Even Debra Vance from Hacks, having her own fountain machine in her house, was something to aspire to.

   With a can almost always within reach, I felt oddly out of control, like the habit was making decisions before I had the chance to.

  I couldn’t explain what kept pulling me back to that brown, carbonated liquid, or why going a single day without it felt impossible. The attachment felt excessive, especially for something so ordinary.

   And I wasn’t always like this. Soda wasn’t really a thing growing up. Water was the default at restaurants, and anything fizzy was saved for birthday parties or movie nights.

  It wasn’t something I thought about, craved, or planned my day around.

  College changed that. Diet Coke became a small reward built into my day—something predictable, something to look forward to. It felt steady during a time when very little was.

   I’ve learned that having a little bit of ADD comfort can quietly turn into fixation. What starts as a routine can slip into something you rely on without even noticing.

   When I reflected back on what I was “obsessed” with, it was really just hyper-fixation. Cheez-Its or even La Croix—it was always something taken in large quantities.

  Diet Coke became that thing for me—always there, always familiar. But when something this simple starts to feel necessary, it’s worth paying attention to.

  And now, I need to stop and drink some water instead.