About half an hour ago I was in Safeway and I spotted the 500ml tub of Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough icecream and I thought, wow, this is destiny baby, you were meant to be in my belly!
And now I sit here peering into a more-than-half empty tub and wondering what possessed me. When I arrived in the UK last March, Ben & Jerry’s was one of the first things I bought from a supermarket, simply coz it’s not widely available in Oz and I am a fool for anything cookie-dough related. Somehow I forgot today that I never really enjoyed it that much. And it took me half a tub to remember!? I’ve absolutely demolished it. You know you’ve eaten too much ice cream when the edges have melted away so you’re left with this sorta ice cream BALL that spins round and round as you dig and dig away at the tub.
I feel quite ill.
Wednesday night my Scotsman was here and we were reflecting on eight months of bliss, or rather how coincidentally we have turned into inactive slugs since hooking up. He has been flat out finishing his PhD and in times of stress neglected his mountain biking and turned to Hula Hoops instead. And I have just been so busy being besotted and travelling and working and just generally being a lazy arse, I have not made any progress. I go up and down, but the new jeans I bought for our first date are just as tight as they were back in November. Hmmm.
"So what can we do about this?" he mused. I said we needed to stop eating for leisure. It’s so easy to do though, coz it’s so nice to have someone to cook for, someone to try and impress. And my best dishes happen to be desserts. And I also have got him into baking, and goddamn he makes a mean hummingbird cake. And every Saturday night I stay at his place we chug down a bottle of Aussie red.
So we’ve both lost weight before, we both can do it again. He has dusted off his mountain bike this week, now I just need to scrape the cobwebs from my gym membership card and get my arse into gear.
I’m off to his place tonight and volunteered to cook coz he’s in the recording studio today with his wee band. So that’s how I ended up in Safeway oggling the ice cream. I got us some noodles and stir fry vegies, and fruit for dessert. But here’s the Old Dietgirl that still lurks within me — I actually thought to myself, "My sister is at work, I have a few hours alone. I could scoff that ice cream, noone will ever know, and The Boy will think I’m a legend for whipping up this healthy dinner!"
Oh how clever and crafty am I for concocting such a secret plan?! Not freaking clever at all, seeing now I feel like a whale and will no doubt be trying to surpress my gurgling stomach all night. How sexy.
I wish I could get over this whole, "Quick! Eat! While No One’s Looking!" mentality. There is always going to be plenty of shitty food for me to eat, I don’t need to scarf it down in secret. It’s always going to be there, it’s always going to be rubbish, so I am not going to miss out on wild pleasure and gratification if I leave it the fuck alone. And people will find out soon enough, when my gut and arse come spilling over the barrier of my pants. Will I ever learn!?