Of all the political reports and tweets blasting back and forth this past week there is one that simply stuns me especially as it was not denied by President Trump.

He downs twelve Diet Cokes a day. A day!

I wanted to research that a little further and all I could find was a tweet he sent October 14, 2012, presumably out of nowhere: “I have never seen a thin person drink a Diet Coke.” Okay, gotcha. But then two days later he sent out another tweet which read, “The Coca Cola company is not happy with me–that’s Ok I’ll keep drinking that garbage.”

I’m not sure what might have spurred the President to relay those thoughts into the universe, and I’m still trying to figure out if I’m dismayed or impressed by anyone on the planet who can drink twelve Diet Cokes, or anything, a day.

In regards to health, the artificial sweeteners found in Diet Coke, according to recent studies at both Boston University School of Medicine and the University of Texas Health Science Center, found that people who claimed they drank at least one can of an artificially sweetened soft drink each day were almost three times as likely to have a stroke caused by a blood clot, as opposed to those who didn’t imbibe. Even more frightening is that the studies also show that those who drank one can of diet soda a day were nearly three times as likely as those who never drink diet soda to be diagnosed with dementia.

Then of course there’s also all kinds of neat side effects like obesity, tooth decay, Type II diabetes and insomnia. 

I’m not slamming President Trump for drinking Diet Coke. Other presidents, including Bill Clinton certainly did. And Barack Obama smoked half way through his term.

But twelve? People, twelve?

I just want to know how he does it. Because while I’m not a beautiful or particularly talented human being, I will put my pelvic floor muscles up against anybody. Decades of riding dressage horses and being childless has given me bladder control that is the envy of every middle aged woman–and man–I know. Road trip? No problem. No need to stop for a good three or four hours after a Big Gulp filled with iced tea. Couple of glasses of wine in the evening? You won’t find me pressing ‘pause’ in the middle of the new season of ‘The Crown.’ But even with my boxcar sized bladder, twelve Diet Cokes would soundly defeat it. I wouldn’t even be able to finish a tweet.

President Trump is 71 years of age so I am going to guess that he probably needs to make a trip to the other oval outside his office a bit more frequently than, say, 20 years ago. Generally, the day of a President is booked with meetings from 9-5. Straight through, every day. Then there are press conferences and he often speaks for a solid hour at his rallies with no need to dash off the stage for a minute before returning. How does he do it? How does he play 18 holes of golf while bouncing around in a golf cart driving over the greens? Forget the stupid inaugural crowd size comparison–the most impressive feat of that day was the man standing confidently and comfortably as well as walking and waving during his address and parade which went on for hours! Who else could possibly have done that? Remember that video clip of him turning to say something to Melania, standing behind him in the crowd, before turning back, leaving her looking downcast? I’m betting he said, “Sorry if you need to go, I’m fine.”

And then Sarah Huckabee Sanders, in replying to reporters’ questions about whether or not the President had been slurring his words in a couple of recent speeches explained that it was ridiculous to read anything into that, that he was absolutely fine, he simply was suffering from ‘dry mouth.’

With all due respect, how does your mouth even have a chance to dry out when it is being filled with twelve beverages a day? 

It just goes to show that the human body, nay, President Trump’s human body, is both an amazing and impressive thing. His teeth are sparkling white, he claims he only sleeps four or five hours a night, he loves McDonald’s and Taco Bell, and a I have never even heard the man once belch by accident after downing twelve sodas a day. If I drink just one, you’d think you heard a fog horn if I were standing anywhere in the vicinity.

Love him or hate him you have to admire the President’s genetic inheritance and stamina. The man is a Clydesdale.