Why I Drank Mountain Dew

 

(Image found here)

I have a confession to make: several weeks ago, I drank some Mountain Dew. For the first time.

I know, shocking. Don't faint.

If you don't know me very well, you can go ahead and take that sarcastically. It really isn't all that shocking or momentous that I drank Mountain Dew. Though, perhaps, you might think it a bit odd that the first time I ever did was when I was twenty years old. And, furthermore, you probably find it queer that I would make a blog post out of the event... but hey. I am a little odd. In case you hadn't noticed...

If, however, you know me really well, you may actually be surprised--not that it was my first time--but that I did, in fact, drink it. At least it was the kind with SUGAR in it, okay??

See, I had a sort of personal rule that I wouldn't drink Mountain Dew. For one thing, it's unhealthy. For another, lots of people that I know are fanatical about it. And I, being, well, rather... shall we say... resistant to that sort of peer pressure, decided I wouldn't do it. Matter of principle, don't ya know.

But I did.

Why? Matter of principle. See, some principles are more important to me than others. Especially the one that caused me to break the I-refuse-to-drink-Mountain-Dew one.

What is it, you ask? Well, it's the principle of encouraging gentlemanliness whenever possible.

See, my sister Hannah, my mother, and I went to go drop the van off at the shop a while back. In skirts, of course. Duh. Well, this funny thing always seems to happen: the men who work at those sorts of places suddenly get more respectful and careful about what they say. It's an interesting thing to observe.... anyways, this particular time, one of the guys disappeared and then came back with some Mountain Dew for us. I could tell he... sort of... thought we were... different, and that he wanted to somehow show us a little extra politeness. So that's what he came up with. I didn't want to take it, honestly. But I realized that if I didn't, I would be, in a way, discouraging (or at least, not encouraging) that gentlemanly act, however small it was. So we took it, thanked him, and proceeded to drink some. (Please don't tell him I dumped the rest out when I got home, okay?)

Perhaps it wasn't really that big of a deal... maybe it didn't have any impact on him. But, on the other hand, maybe it was. Maybe it did.

I may not be able to change the entire culture, but I can seek to change my little bit of it, by God's grace.

Even if it means drinking Mountain Dew.