I swear that ice cream can talk.
You might think I'm crazy, but I heard it plain as the nose on my face.
It was calling to me from the freezer. Just so you know, french Vanilla has a silky, smooth, buttery, french voice. It whispered to me from across the room as I sat on the couch, nails digging into the palms of my hands, trying hard to concentrate on anything ... ANYTHING ... other than the call of the sweet creamy goodness.
Turns out macaroni can talk too. The mac that my mom creates has five different kinds of cheese, hotdogs, and other goodies baked into it and it's voice is rich, booming, and thunderous.
Chocolate chip cookies have a childlike voice that twirls, and laughs, and beckons with fervent playfulness.
Wine sounds like a high society lady that turns her nose up at the person that refuses to indulge.
I've heard this all first hand while visiting my parents house on Friday evening.
As I was sitting there trying to concentrate on a rerun of WifeSwap, I kept hearing these foods daring me to enjoy just a couple small, itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny bites and sips. Just a small indulgence. Just a few short seconds of bliss.
"There aren't even enough calories to count in one little, tiny, delicious bite," the ice cream oozed.
"Oh please, no one will ever know if you don't ever tell them," the wine prattled.
"GETTING OFF YOUR BUTT AND WALKING TO THE FRIDGE WILL BURN CALORIES SO GET OFF YOUR BUTT AND GET OVER HERE!" the mac & cheese shouted, jolting me a little.
Then came the playful laughter of the chocolate chip cookies. The laughter skipped across the room, bounced over the walls, and landed squarely in my lap with a buoyant bounce.
"Please treat yourself with a cookie. Please? Please?" The cookies were fervent, insistent, and questioning like a child asking for a new toy while in the store.
I was overwhelmed. I was not far enough along in my diet plan to be faced with such convincing subjects. And I was facing them alone.
I contemplated stuffing cotton balls in my ears but decided against that as I would need to pass the fridge to get to the cotton balls. Bad idea to be that close to the source of my temptation.
Perhaps if I went for a walk ... well ... maybe not given the hour.
Ok, how about a drive? Hmm... probably not a good idea to leave Beverly (my grandma) home alone.
So the only thing left to do was to suffer through the calls and hope that I was strong enough to resist their discourse.
Turns out when ignored, ice cream actually screams, chocolate chip cookies throw tantrums, mac and cheese tosses insults, and wine gets manipulative.
The funny thing is that the longer this went on, the less interested I became in the activity.
I ate my nonfat blueberry yogurt, downed 192 quarts of water (64 ounce jug filled many many times) and with each bite and sip heard the voices get a little fainter until, upon my 194th ounce of water, they were silenced completely.
I was so proud of my ability to resist that I didn't even care that I had get up to pee every 15 minutes through the rest of the night. A simple walk to the bathroom was an opportunity to be proud of myself for standing firm against the calls of temptation.
So take that ice cream! Go bother someone else mac and cheese! I don't wanna play anymore cookies! And wine, turns out you're the one that's no good!
I was a better person because I fought the battle and won. At least for that one night.
What are your triggers? What foods are you making a decision (and cutting yourself off from any other possibility) not to indulge in?