Today was bad. Bad, bad, bad. My three year old peed on the carpet three times. I sewed for 8 hours trying to get through my pig, beaver and penguin orders, I couldn't smile at my husband for the life of me and my tenants wouldn't stop calling. At 7 pm I was falling asleep at the sewing machine and ready to hit the sack. As I got up and headed for my bedroom I remembered that I'm on a diet. Brilliant. That meant I could go off my diet. And we all know that's the best imaginable way to finish up a failed day.
Hoping the Carb Gods weren't watching, I snuck to the kitchen and dumped all our remaining ice cream into a big bowl, poured melted Dove chocolate over the top and then topped it all off with a six inch tall tower of whipped cream. As I carried the bowl carefully to the couch, trying not to tip my precarious Leaning Tower of ReadyWhip, I was already starting to feel better. I know people would categorize this as "emotional eating," but there is no denying that my ice cream tonight was able to salvage the 15 previous hours of torture. I'm surprised nobody has bottled the stuff or incorporated it in a multivitamin. Even half an hour after I finished my binge, my insides are still happily chilled from my frosty medicine. Has anyone ever felt this satisfied after eating celery? I doubt it. I almost feel good enough to finish up some sewing - almost.
Shopping list for the week:
One Gallon Vanilla Ice Cream