
Marlow speculates that the bubbles in Diet Coke may increase the addictiveness of the drink. Photograph: Bertrand Langlois/AFP/Getty Images the late Karl Lagerfeld, a one-time Diet Coke creative director. ‘It leaned heavily into its association with the fashion world’. “Over time, you develop a tolerance for the substance.” “The minute you get that substance into your body, your brain knows about it and gets a hit from it,” she says. The biological component is your body’s physiological craving for an addictive substance, such as caffeine, nicotine or alcohol. She explains that addiction has a biological component and a psychological component. It is validating to hear an expert tell me that my Diet Coke addiction is just that, rather than a bad habit. “I don’t think it’s an option for me to have an occasional Diet Coke – it would rapidly escalate to five or six cans a day.” It took her four attempts to kick the habit. “I managed to stop drinking it four years ago, but had to go cold turkey,” she says. Marlow confesses something unexpected: like me, she is a Diet Coke addict. “Your brain has become used to having a certain amount of caffeine in it and, when you take that away, you go through withdrawal. “The caffeine will be stimulating neurotransmitter pathways, including dopamine,” says Marlow. Caffeine is a medically recognised addictive substance that, when taken in excess, activates the brain’s reward circuitry. The average can of Diet Coke contains 42mg of caffeine, the equivalent of roughly two-thirds of a shot of espresso. This – according to Dr Sally Marlow of King’s College London, a specialist in addiction and mental health – is because I am in physical withdrawal from the caffeine in Diet Coke. I know that my headache won’t go away otherwise. I want to dump a bucket of Diet Coke on this spot and watch it fizz. I envisage a tiny part of my brain – roughly parallel with my tongue and upper palate – that won’t become activated unless I drink Diet Coke. I find myself craving Diet Coke in a way that is alarming and unexpected. When it arrives, I down it, making little whimpering noises of pleasure. “ Order it,” I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion. My head is pounding only the caramel smack of Diet Coke will do. “I thought you were quitting?” he replies. “Add a can of Diet Coke,” I instruct him.
Coke or diet coke caffeine tv#
On New Year’s Day, I wake up hungover and watch TV in bed with my boyfriend. I finish my stockpile on New Year’s Eve, suckling from a two-litre bottle like a baby drinking from the teat. My attempt to quit Diet Coke does not start well. If I am being honest with you, I didn’t think I could do it myself. By the end of January 2021, I would be Coke-free. So I pitched this feature – mostly as a way of holding myself accountable – and set myself a target. I quit smoking in my 20s on my first attempt, but Diet Coke is my aluminium Annapurna: I daren’t even attempt the summit. The staff know me there and remind me if I forget to pick up a crate. To keep the costs down, I buy 24-can crates from my local supermarket. ‘I estimate that I have drunk 11,315 litres of Diet Coke.’ Photograph: leirbagenaz/Stockimo/Alamy If enduring an endoscopy won’t stop you drinking fizzy drinks, you know you are addicted. I recently spent a year on prescription medication for a stomach condition that was almost certainly triggered by my overconsumption of Diet Coke, according to my GP.

I get anxious if I don’t have any Diet Coke in the fridge as bedtime approaches I run to the shop in the middle of the night to ensure there is a cold can waiting for me in the morning. When I go on holiday, I fill up the supermarket trolley with Diet Coke, to the amusement of my friends. I really want to stop drinking Diet Coke – and not only because I spend at least £500 a year on the stuff.

(I have been conservative with these numbers – it is almost certainly more.) That is more than 11,000 litres of caramel fizz, fermenting my insides, bathing my liver in foam. Using some back-of-a-fag-packet-maths, I estimate that I have drunk 11,315 litres of Diet Coke in my 31 years on this Earth. My boyfriend jokes about my morning routine: wake up, pad to the kitchen. Five cans on a good day, seven cans on a bad day.

I drink Diet Coke from the moment I wake up until I go to sleep. To much fanfare, my boss brings in an eight-pack of Diet Coke, with a burning candle stuck in it. (My mum won’t buy it for the house any more, because of my addiction.) My low blood sugar makes the artificial sweetness taste euphoric.

After a long day starving myself, I walk to the corner shop and reward myself with a bottle of Diet Coke.
