I Want My Boba Tea!

In case you don’t know, Boba Tea, also known as bubble tea or pearl milk, is a drink made with tea, mixed with milk, fresh fruits and ice.  What makes it special is the addition of small chewy balls made of tapioca called pearls or boba.  You suck the round tapioca balls from the bottom of the cup through an oversized straw, and then chew them while swallowing the drink.   It seems very weird at first, but I have to believe it is healthy with all its’ natural ingredients … much better than say, Diet Coke for instance.  But that’s where they get you – it is specialized, rare, not readily available… In my small town, they are only sold in one small oriental shop….. at an exorbitant price.

This may not be the perfect time or place to bring this up, but confession is absolutely crucial for my recovery, and I can’t be afraid to take the next step…. I’m counting on you, my bloggy friends to get me through this.

Hi I’m Lala and I’m a Boba Tea addict.  It's been two weeks since I had my last Boba Tea. 

It’s hard to hear my own voice saying that, that I’m an addict.  The first time, I didn’t really want to try it but I guess I felt I had to prove something, prove that I wasn’t just a small town hick, that I wasn’t too old to try something new.  Where I’m from though, and at my age, people don’t drink Boba tea.

It all started when I followed some teenagers into this exotic shop.   I was feeling down, and thirsty, and I thought these kids were cool and hip… all the stuff I wasn’t.  After standing in the shadows watching what they did, I ordered what they ordered, an avocado banana Boba, not knowing what to expect.  It was beautiful.   A greenish smoothie of sorts, with a layer of black balls on the bottom of the clear cup.  One suck.  That’s all it took.

 

I was afraid to ask other people my own age to join me, since when I’d tried; their reactions were always the same.  It was just too weird.  Eventually it just seemed easier and better to go alone.  At first, I felt great, my mind was sharp, I could lift heavy things, and leap tall buildings.  As long as I was getting my fix.  But at just short of 5 bucks a hit, my habit started to take its toll on my checkbook.  Even with my punch card, it was getting hard to hide just how many times I found myself back at the Boba counter begging for more.  I pretty much knew then, that I was hooked.  Nothing else tasted good.  Nothing else mattered.  I found myself fantasizing about how I could knock over the joint, or kidnap the kid behind the counter, forcing him to make me Bobas for free.  I cased the Asian food market looking for the gooey tapioca balls that held so much allure for me.  But I couldn’t make a Boba for myself at home.  My friends were right, it was just too weird. 

So I decided to quit cold turkey.  It was easy to stay clean at first.  But recently, I’ve lost the superpowers those tantalizing chewy balls brought me.  I’ve started to notice Bobas more often.  Kids were sucking them up on the street, there were pictures of them on the Internet.  I guess I’ll have to get used to the fact that Bobas will always be there. I just have to remember that for me, it’s always going to be one day at a time. 

I just have to get through today without having one…