Say it isn’t so! It’s 2 p.m. on a Saturday without the usual morning commute coffee. The dull thud of a headache lulls into my cortex and I am in full denial that this is a sign of caffeine withdrawals. I’ve had a rough week and it’s catching up with me; maybe I’m about to get a visit from Aunt Flo; did I drink last night?! The answer is no, regretfully, to all of the above. I must face the facts. I am a full blown 100% coffee addict.

The worst part? The worst part is, this isn’t the worst part. Being a coffee addict is one thing. Being a bougie coffee addict is a whole different beast. If you are unfamiliar with the term, let me take this time to enlighten you. According to the Urban Dictionary the definition of bougie is:

Pronounced – /ˈbo͞ojē,-ZHē/.

So call me a hipster or bougie but I can’t stand to drink a cup of Folgers in the morning. Nor a cup of joe from McDonald’s, not for fear of having the same fate as poor old Stella, but for fear of my taste buds screaming in retaliation. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an overly high-maintenance girl. I just like a good cup of coffee!

You know the addiction is real when your normal order is a small americano, black. It’s the most simple of orders – espresso + hot water, but it can be the most delightful if you’ve got some good beans. The aroma alone can be the most alluring sense of the whole experience.

And that’s just what drinking coffee is to me – it’s not just a beverage – it’s an experience. From picking the coffee shop, to ordering and interacting with baristas, to sipping the delicate bitterness amid window filtered sunlight.

Confession 1: I am a coffee addict. Confession 2: I’m not mad about it.
Of all the substances and habits I could be addicted to, a bit of caffeine should be the least of my worries. I can almost proudly proclaim that, “Yes!” I am a coffee addict, although not too loudly for the dull throbbing of a headache is beginning to sharpen. That just may be my cue, off to a toasty-roasty cup of coffee!