If you told me four years ago that I would be a coffee addict today, I wouldn’t have believed you. I drank it occasionally. If I didn’t have a cup on a certain day it was okay. I never really had to worry about “giving it up” when I was pregnant, it was a non-issue. Coffee and me were distant friends. We didn’t see each other all the time, but when we did we enjoyed each others company.
My addiction didn’t become clear to me till yesterday. Yes, I needed a cup or five a day. Yes, I storm down the steps, pushing any young child out of the way, to get my first cup. And okay I will admit whether or not Lil’ Dad had fresh coffee in the pot when I woke up determines how my day would be. I considered it a natural thing, more habit then addiction.
The realization of my addiction happenened at the bottom, at that place were many a addicts came to realize this horrid need, the pull. Starbucks.
I stepped up and ordered a Cafe’ Latte. A shot of cappicino and steamed milk. A treat I have not had in quite some time. I took my first sip.
“WHAT IN THE HELL!” This wasn’t coffee. GROSS. All I tasted was milk. This fancy drink did nothing for me. This fluffy thing they say to be coffee was not cutting it. I needed the real thing and I needed it NOW!
Yup, no more coffees ending in words like Lattee or Mocha. Give me the real stuff, straight up. A little cream.