Last Sunday, H and I went to breakfast. We ordered our food and two Diet Cokes. A lot of people drink coffee. We drink Diet Coke in the morning.
After we demolished our eggs, the waitress came by.
"Can I get you anything else?" she asked.
"I'd love another Diet Coke," said H.
"Me too, please," I said.
The waitress looked at each of us, kind of checking us out. Then she said, "I'm sorry, but do you two know that the
sweetener in Diet Coke turns to formaldehyde in your bodies?"
H and I stared at her.
"I'm not lying. You can look it up," she said.
After a moment, she walked away with our empty glasses.
"Well, that's good news. I guess I'll live longer because my organs will be pickled," H said.
"Exactly," I said.
The waitress brought our glasses back, filled with Diet Coke.
"Thank you," H and I said.
"Did I tell you that someone came to the door yesterday and asked if I've been reading my bible?" I said.
"Seriously?" H asked.
"Yep. What's with people trying to tell me what to do?" I asked.
"No idea." H took a sip of her Diet Coke.
Now, we're not dummies. We realize Diet Coke is not good for us. And if people read the Bible once in a while, perhaps the world would be a friendlier place. But you can't come to my front door and tell me what I should do. Just like I can't follow people around the supermarket and take all the conventional fruits out of their shopping carts, explain why all the pesticides are eventually going to give them cancer and replace those fruits with organics.
It's none of my business, right? How do you feel when a stranger tells you what you should or shouldn't do?
xoxo,
Suzanne