I had my first glass of water at the age of 27. I was at my doctor’s office for a physical and he asked how much water I was drinking. The answer was zero, but I thought it was a trick question. I hedged my bet and said, “Um, two?”

“Two what?”

“Two waters?”

“Give me a measurement.”

“Tablespoons?”

He sighed and told me I was dehydrated. Looking back, that makes sense because I hadn’t had a glass of water in more than a quarter-century. 

Growing up, we drank four things: Kool-Aid, orange juice, milk and soda. Even our ice cubes were made from Kool-Aid. I never remember going to the faucet to get a glass of water. We used the faucet to fill up water balloons. 

On the weekends, I’d ride my bike 40 miles, play two games of basketball, hike Mt. Timpanogos and play at the park until it was dark, and I never, ever stopped for a glass of water. If I got thirsty, I’d swing by 7-Eleven to grab a Fresca and a pack of candy cigarettes.

We didn’t carry expensive, gallon-sized, bedazzled Stanley cups where we could sip cucumber-infused, artisan wellwater through a biodegradable straw. We would have mercilessly mocked anyone who did.

I did have a metal Thermos that came with my Holly Hobbie lunch box, but it always smelled like sour milk, even when it was filled with Hawaiian Punch. 

We didn’t drink water at school except after lunch recess, when we were allowed to have one gulp from the water fountain at the back of the room. But Ray B. always put his mouth on the faucet and then no one else wanted to drink. Ray was Patient Zero for all diseases in our class.

If we were driving with Mom around town and got thirsty, she wouldn’t throw us a bottle of Dasani. She would hand us a stick of gum and say, “Chew this until you have enough spit to swallow.”

I didn’t know drinking water was an option. Well, that’s not quite true. When we played outside, we’d drink it straight from the hose like God intended. It was cold, refreshing and full of lead and arsenic, but it quenched my thirst.

I never would have poured water into a cup and just sat around like a fancy person, sipping Perrier with my pinky in the air. No hoity-toity water for me, thank you.

But then, single-use plastic bottles were created and water became an industry. Why drink water from the hose for free when you can purchase tap water in a bottle? We were told to drink eight glasses of water every day. Who has time for that?

Social media influencers took drinking water to a whole new level. They are responsible for making reusable water bottles a lifestyle necessity, launching brands like Yeti, Hydro Flask and Stanley into the liquid stratosphere. 

Do you know how many water bottles are in my home? As of yesterday, there were 4,628, most of them branded from events, including the 17 my husband has from the Sundance Film Festival.

We can blame data centers for taking our water (and I do), but maybe we should share culpability for the world’s dehydration by carrying 100 cubic meters of water with us wherever we go. 

My eight-year-old self is sitting on a bench at Murray Park, puffing a candy cigarette and swigging Fresca. My 27-year-old self is learning how to drink water every day. My current self just knocked my Yeti mug over for the umpteenth time, spilling water all over the desk. Progress or product placement?

Peri Kinder is an award-winning columnist and journalist who has written for The City Journals since 2004. She also hosts the Life & Laughter podcast. Peri can be reached at [email protected].