Fudgsicle Battles

Written in fine print on the bottom of each box of Fudgsicles should be the words: "Dangerous: Approach With Caution At Your Own Risk." Although my diet allows, and in fact requires me to have a dessert each evening, and although I was doing really well when said dessert was an Edy's no-sugar popsicle, things have not been so rosy in Buttercup's Weight Loss World since two boxes of Fudgsicles made their way into my freezer last week.

The first episode happened on Thursday, after I had come home from the gym and eaten my usual meal of boca burgers and veggies. I waited for about 20 seconds after finishing my last bite of okra before I was up at the freezer reaching for a fudgsicle. So much for proper digestion and having dessert as a snack sometime after the meal. Oh my god, the fudgsicle was so good. It was also only 60 calories which made walking over to the freezer and busting out another one so very, very easy.

After finishing my second 60-calorie pop, it came to my mind - quite out of nowhere - that the second box of fudgsicles contained 40-calorie pops. Doing the math quickly, I realized that I had consumed only 120 calories of fudgsicle, which was about 800 calories less than what I would have consumed had I eaten a pint of Haagen Dazs Ice Cream instead. At the time, with an 800 calorie window, walking over the freezer and busting out a 40 calorie pop seemed like a no-brainer.

By the time I finished my third fudgsicle, my stomach hurt enough to eclipse the fudgsicle yearning that was still emanating wildly from my mind and mouth. Why do my mouth and mind love chocolate so? I could bathe in chocolate if it didn't clog my pores, and I could eat it every day, surviving on it and it alone, if it didn't cause me to blow up like a blimp. Chocolate, oh chocolate, a doomed love affair.

The second episode happened tonight, and exemplifies a key problem that I need to resolve within myself. Namely, my ability to split, without a moment's notice, into two different personalities, one that acts like a reckless teenager and the other who acts like a healthy, bossy, adult. The teenager wants what it wants NOW - usually food, but sometimes other equally destructive things - and it couldn't care less about the consequences. The adult tries to be healthy but is repeatedly taken over by the teenager. (I think the adult may also really like chocolate, and may secretly wish to not be in charge).

Tonight, I came home after having a great day (so there was no emotional eating involved, or at least none of which I'm aware), ate my boca burgers and okra, and then had a fudgsicle for dessert. Upon finishing the fudgsicle, I immediately wanted another one.

Or, I should say half of me wanted another one. Immediately.

The other half of me tried to say "no." It said, "Buttercup, under no circumstances WHATSOEVER are you allowed to have that fudgsicle. I mean it! You are going to be FAT, FAT, FAT. Don't even think about going to the freezer. I mean it!"

The first half didn't even bother saying, "Fuck you." It just took control of my body, sashayed over to the freezer, opened up a fudgsicle, and reveled in the taste of the cool chocolaty goodness melting on my tongue. (The other half also reveled, despite fully being aware that this would probably mean FAILURE for my second week on the diet).

This, after a fantasic day! I didn't even have a snack! I was so good! Why did I have to have a second fudgsicle? Bad. Bad. Bad.

Thank god, both halves stopped after the second one. Somehow, I have to bring those two together. Ms. Rebellion and Ms. Bossy, Ms. Body wishes to see you.

The food wars must end.