That Time I Quit Drinking Coffee

It was May 1, 2020. I had returned from my morning walk. I took off my sweaty clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped naked on to the scale. I was down five pounds to my pre-Covid-19 weight. You might think I would be thrilled. The problem was I had been tracking my steps on my phone during April and came across my weight from August of 2019. Ten months ago, after seven months of consistent boxing and kickboxing, I weighed thirteen pounds lighter. In August, I gave up the boxing gym.

In May, I decided to give up coffee.

Here’s the thing. I normally do not drink coffee every morning, but Kody does. He drinks his coffee in the office, but—since he’s working from home, coffee has become part of our morning routine. He drinks his black. I drink mine blonde. You know—with cream. And honey. It’s decadent.

After my shower last Friday, I made myself a large glass of iced tea. Unsweetened. I was parched. The tea quenched. This is good, I thought. I can do this.

Saturday rolled around. I rolled out of bed and went for my walk. On arrival home and through my front door, I smelled the aroma of good coffee, medium roast Texas pecan, 100% Arabica from our local HEB. I thought, Maybe I can make an exception, just on the weekends. This time, we were out of cream. I opted for vanilla almond milk. Even lighter, I thought. And then that little devil on my shoulder whispered, “What the heck—it’s the weekend. Indulge.” I added a shot of bourbon.

Sunday was similar. Except no walk and no almond milk. Instead I Googled Chase Oaks Church on my phone, connected my device to the television for the April 26th sermon “When Life Seems Out of Control,” and sipped my coffee. Black. With Bourbon. Dear Lord, please don’t judge. We are amid a pandemic.

Monday rolled around. I walked again. I re-entered my home. Damn that coffee. After a weekend expedition for groceries, I had cream once more. I give up. I’m keeping up my walks—thirty minutes a day is my minimum. If it’s cool enough, forty-five minutes to an hour. Fewer carbs. More self-control. That’s my plan.

And so I quit drinking coffee—for a day. A pandemic calls for comforts, I decided. I’m okay with changing my mind.

I look forward to A 2nd Cup, 1111 E. 11th Street, Houston, Texas.