Screaming for ice cream

I am a lover of all things sweet...candy, ice cream, cakes, tarts, pudding, custards, popsicles, fudgesicles, cotton candy, funnel cakes, Moose Tracks with pb cups and fudge and vanilla ice cream...stopping now before I drown in my own drool.

This was pretty apparent as a kid, when I was pronounced queen of desserts by my mother. Buffets were awesome since it's unlimited dessert. I remember one place, J.B.'s, when I was like, six, and they had the most awesome dessert bar imaginable! Brownies, ice cream, marshmallows, hot fudge, Oreos, peanuts, skittles, nerds, m&ms -- what, you want me to stop now? This isn't why you read the blog? Okay, the point is, I would go back for seconds and thirds and even fourths if I could sneak it by my parents. And unlike my siblings, my place would be clean, since every bite belonged in my mouth, not wasted on the table.

Fast forward twenty something years, and I'm on a weight loss/healthy kick...I try not to eat desserts, or I only have a small taste and the rest goes to the manfriend. I try. But some days just won't conform. Today, for instance. Today I had an insatiable desire for junk.

When the manfriend came home today, I pounced.

Me: So, dinner...any ideas?
Manfriend: I'm not really hungry. How about we don't do anything fancy and just snack?
Me: (glancing into the fridge) Not hungry at all? I want chips and salsa.
Manfriend: Not hungry.
Me: (eyeing the guacamole and pico de gallo)  I guess I can just make tacos again.

I sigh. I pull out a bowl to make tortillas. I stand there.  After a minute or two, I put the bowl back and pile chicken, salsa and guacamole on a plate. I don't want to go to any effort.

A couple of minutes pass.

Me: I want ice cream.
Manfriend: Do you deserve ice cream?*
Me: Excuse me? Do I deserve ice cream? Now look here, I didn't eat tiramisu, chocolate, and peanut butter cups today like someone else did.
Manfriend: Okay.
Me:  I want ice cream.
Manfriend:  You convinced me. But I'm not going to buy it.
Me: I want ice cream.
Manfriend: So go, buy yourself some. What's stopping you?
Me: The fact that I shouldn't...but I want it.
Manfriend: Aren't you supposed to have a "cheat day/meal?"

Hmmm...fantastic point. I grab my purse, pull on shoes, and whisk out the door to the grocery store, visions of Coke Zero**, brownies, and peanut buster parfaits all dancing through my thoughts.

Not 15 minutes later, I return carrying my prize: Coke Zero and Moose Tracks ice cream.  I pull out a spoon and carve out some ice cream for my 1/2 cup-ish bowl.

Manfriend: That's a big carton. When I don't go with you, you get more stuff.
Me: It's mine.
Manfriend: You need my influence at the store.
Me: Well, it only comes this size.
Manfriend:  I'm a good influence.
Me:  Hah!  I wanted Moose Tracks.
Manfriend: Now I want some. (glancing at my spoon) Use the scoop. It's the right tool.

Fine. I grab the ice cream scoop and attempt to pull out more of the soft ice cream, only to have a rather large chunk escape me and fly to freedom on the countertop. Uhm, whoops? I attempt to grab it with the help of the ice cream scoop, and the ice cream promptly falls to the floor. Uh-oh.

Screw the "right tool," I grab it with my hand and toss it in the sink. Maybe next time I should just eat the ice cream out of the carton.  Besides, by the time I get to actually start eating my ice cream, the manfriend has polished off his bowl. Who's the good influence now?

*Said in jest. The manfriend loves me.
**Evil. This must be made in hell. When it is in my possession, it lasts for minutes. I drank a two liter in a day the last time we bought it.