I Can't Be Blamed For This

I try to be a good person. I really do. I put my cart in a corral after grocery shopping. I give the evil-eye / loud-sigh / disappointed-head-shake to those who don't. I occasionally make dinner for my husband. I smile and wave when people let me in their lane while driving.  I rotate Hubby's sock drawer so all of his socks get equal utilization. All of these things are done in honor of trying to be a good person.

And then they go and do something like this to me. After all I've done to try to be good!

They've gone and combined my two favorite treats in the world. Ice Cream and Red Velvet Cake. I'll let you read that a few more times before we move on.

It's been years since I bought ice cream. No, really. At least since mid-March. Which is quite a record for me, and ever impressive. If you know me, then you know that I think about eating ice cream about fourteen dozen times a day. And that's just before my workout each morning. I am not adverse to the proposition of eating Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream for breakfast. And I occasionally do such. Who needs cereal when there's a much more wonderful way to get calcium?

But, alas, all of this addiction appreciation for ice cream has led to some rather inappropriate consequences. For instance, I can no longer run a mile in under twenty minutes, like my glory days in middle school (just kidding...they gave up timing me after the bell rang for the next class to begin. I'm a genius!). I can no longer eat whatever my little heart desires because I no longer run three hours a day for volleyball, basketball, or softball season, depending on the time of year. And I thought I was fat in high school! I was in the best shape of my life! And I lived on pasta and ice cream. But, due to a slightly lower activity level over the past eleven years, I can no longer get away with such fun meals.

Good grief. Did I just say eleven years?

We've been trying to do better in the eating arena. I say "we" very loosely since Hubby experiences no detrimental impact on his body from food. He can come home from work, telling me about the six donuts he ate for lunch, and then step on the scale to show a three-pound weight loss. Fair? Not even slightly, but I promise I won't complain about that too much.

So why did Blue Bunny do this to me? I've certainly never done anything to them except show undying support and enthusiasm. And another question...why are Rhodes Rolls, which are a necessary part of my hosting Easter Dinner tomorrow with family, located in the same freezer section aisle as ice cream? Why not next to vegetables or (gasp) pizza. I always win the battle against such shelf items staring back at me. But ice cream? That's more of a challenge. One I most likely lose. I walked slowly past all the flavors today...enjoying their pretty packaging and wiping drool from my mouth. And then I saw it. And I just couldn't say no. I was so exhausted from working inside and outside the house all day (see hosting-Easter-Dinner reference above). So a nice, cool, calming bowl of ice cream sounded really good. It ended up in my cart, car, and freezer before I knew what happened.

Red Velvet Cake Ice Cream. You're welcome, Love Handles. I should capitalize them, since they are practically a part of me now.

I better go...Hubby just came in and threatened to eat my ice cream while I blog about it! The nerve! And even as he's wearing properly-rotated socks! Sometimes I don't think he realizes how great he's got it!