Ice Cream Woes

Five nights after the crave started, I'm still craving that bowl of ice cream. I thought I might be able to create a certain amount of on-program disinterest if I sat down and calculated how many calories are in my desired treat.

I just finished dinner (broccoli and cheese stuffed chicken breast, salad and cut corn with no butter) and I'm nice and full for the moment. Even so, I still want that ice cream. In an hour or so, I'll be hungry again, and then I'll really want that it.

If I eat exactly the amount and type of ice cream and topping that I really want, I will end up consuming at least 520 calories. If I go for a really big ice cream fest, which is what I want, then I'm probably looking at somewhere in the neighborhood of about 780 calories.

Rats.

I thought that knowing the full damage of such a dessert might temper my desire. Sadly, that dreadful caloric news doesn't make me want it any less. Considering that being "on program" amounts to 1,200 to 1,500 calories per day, I don't think it's possible to work in my desired treat without completely, utterly and totally blowing it.

Sure, I could fast all day long and stuff my face with a huge bowl of ice cream at dinner time, but I'm sure that would give me an upset stomach (high fat meal + no food all day - gallbladder = diarrhea) which would certainly take all the fun out of it. If I ate decently during the day and then had my ice cream, I'd avoid a case of the atomic butt blasts, but I'd be consuming enough calories to send my weight off into the stratosphere.

I'm sure that some of my helpful readers will preach portion control, alternate brands of ice cream or offer other helpful advice. Sadly, there is no advice for this situation. I want what I want, and no substitutions will do. So for now, the answer is that I'm just not going to have it.

Life just isn't fair, sometimes.

Of course things are better than when I was dieting during college. Back in those days, my now-ex SO was just oh-so-supportive. He would sit there and shovel my favorite ice cream into his face, bowl after bowl, while I had to sit there and watch. It was awful. I lost a lot of weight (only to gain it back after I graduated) but I constantly dreamt I was eating ice cream. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, sure I'd cheated on my diet, until I realized that my stomach was growling and I was still in bed listening to Ice Cream Man snoring away all those calories.

I hated him. He was 6'2", thin as a rail, and ate everything in sight.

Life just isn't fair, sometimes.

And while I'm complaining, have I mentioned that I'm really sick of salad?