In my book, I heaped a mountain of abuse on the impossibly delicious – but completely dastardly – Diet Coke. My rant was in the abs chapter, and I connected the dots between the yummy-yet-evil brew and a puffy post-baby kangaroo pouch. The expert I consulted on this all-important topic was Jackie Keller, the LA-based nutrition guru who has helped many a Hollywood hottie get her figure back after delivering a wee one.

“When you’re trying to de-bloat,” Jackie told me, “the first thing you want to do is get rid of carbonated sodas.”

After our chat, I steered clear of DC for a really long time. Not 100 percent mind you; but I cut back from an average of about one per day to one per month. Sometimes, on our Saturday afternoon movie dates, I would pilfer a sip from Hubby’s cup when he wasn’t looking.

Sure, I was worried about the puffy-tummy sitch. But I was (and am) even more concerned with the scary chemicals contained within. Not to mention that anything that comes in a can these days is entirely suspect…

Recently, though, I’ve been losing the battle and letting my guard down. I would guesstimate that I’m back up to two cans a week. Not happy about this my mama friends, no sirree.

Of course, DC isn’t the only dodgy bevvie I’ve been consuming lately. Yesterday, because I was hanging by a thread, energy-wise, I had, in addition to a DC, three cups of coffee (!), a sugar-free Red Bull (!!!!) and two glasses of Champs at the launch party for Say 100.

Is it any wonder, after all those bubbles – and all that caffeine – that I was awakened out of a dead sleep with a raging belly ache? I basically ruined today by slurping a bunch of s–t yesterday.

Momover Lady needs to get her act together. An act that doesn’t involve Diet Coke.

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