Grab your tiny violin and get your biggest sigh ready because I'll admit: What I'm about to say has me rolling my own eyes. It's hard to work at Delish and hate seltzer water. I know. I know. First world problem. But hear me out.
Seltzer — or seltz, as the bubbly water lovers here call it — isn't just a drink at Delish. It's cause for a social gathering. Our kitchen fridge is always stocked with cans: plain Canada Dry, at least three flavors of La Croix, sometimes even spiked versions for Wednesdays that feel like Fridays. And multiple times a day, someone makes a run for the editors. I've heard, "Who wants a seltz?" more times than I can count in my year-and-a-half tenure at Delish.
And I always scrunch down in my chair, avoiding eye contact, as the sole person whose hand doesn't shoot up immediately. Loving the stuff is nearly a requirement of working here. Honestly, I'm surprised "What are your opinions on seltzer?" wasn't a question asked in my interview. But I'm climbing onto my soapbox now.
The flavors don't make any sense.
As America's obsession has grown, my disdain has, too. When it comes to the power of a certain flavor, there's no consistency from brand to brand and fruit to fruit. If I get a grape-flavored piece of candy — whether it's a Jolly Rancher or a pack of Nerds — it's going to taste the same. I can't say the same thing about sparkling water. Pamplemousse La Croix tastes light, almost like someone just waved a grapefruit over the can to infuse the water with the citrus's essence. Grapefruit Perrier, on the other hand, tastes intense and artificial. What? How? Why?
Plain seltzer is boring — and unreasonably expensive.
Then there's the flavorless stuff. It's devoid of added sweeteners and sugars (a plus), but it tends to be so carbonated, the burn masks any sort of refreshment that water typically offers. And the fact that restaurants can get away with charging you five bucks for a bottle is beyond infuriating. The only way I think it's worth drinking is spiked with vodka and topped with three slices of lime.
It makes my stomach balloon.
I'd be remiss if I didn't talk about the not-so-sexy part, too: the bloat. It is real. Carbonation is essentially a bunch of tiny air pockets, and when you swallow them, all that air builds up in your stomach. It doesn't affect everyone, but drinking a can of seltzer often makes me look like I'm in the early stages of pregnancy.
Doctors aren't sold on it.
The science is shaky on all of the other downsides people have to say about seltzer: that it can mess with your teeth, that it isn't as hydrating as flat water. But I figure, if I don't even like the stuff, there's no reason to chance it.
I'm not alone.
And, hey, I'm not the only one who feels this way. Reddit is rife with threads hating on sparkling water, with enlightening titles that include "People who like sparkling water, what's up with that?" and "Why do people like carbonated water?". Twitter users like to hate on it, too: "Idk how some ppl actually like drinking #seltzerwater or #sparklingwater. It's just expensive #fartammowater.. drink #regularwater like a damn #humanbeing!" wrote @SarcasticArepa. A barrage of hashtags diluted his point, but, yes, he called seltzer water "fart ammo water," so it's forgiven and forgotten. We seltz haters have to stick together, you know.
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