Diet Dump Cream

Who doesn’t love a good diet, right? Can I get an Amen, ladies? C’mon. With the plethora of diet options out there, it is easy to stay on track, see results and more importantly, feel utterly confident that you are, indeed, worthy of the self-high five you inevitably give yourself in the mirror every morning. It’s like a little ‘say girl, you’re looking lovely. Congrats on not nomming on that cookie dough last night’.

Or so I thought...

Let’s make a few really important points off the blocks. I am not on a diet; this is a lifestyle (I’m judging myself too, don’t feel bad about it). You know what I’m talking about. Working out? Check. My life is one mid-jog faceplant away from being it’s own fitness video series. It would probably be called ‘Work Until You Pee Yourself’, since that seems to be a reoccurring phenomenon, evidenced by my little dribbles of wee smattering the local gym floor. Sorry, guys, but those side planks made my bladder hurt.

Since I have seemingly plateaued on my journey to looking stellar, I decided it was time for some drastic steps. Sayonara gluten and sugar. It’s been real. For two months, I shall go without you.

Now, I feel like a refugee struggling through a cookie-less desert: parched, famished and rather unpleasant.  Did I mention it’s only day three? Womp womp.

On my weekly mecca to the local HEB where all the hotties hang out, I took a quick spin down the diet aisle to grab some protein bars for my emergency travel stash. And by quick stroll, I mean I dawdled for twenty minutes trying to pronounce half the words so I could sound really trendy and fit….and so I could keep eyeing the CrossFit hottie that was sizing up the protein powder. Excuse me sir, but you look so familiar. Have we met before? You look exactly like my future husband. Weird.

That is when I saw it. The saving grace of every diet. Diet Ice Cream. Dairy free, gluten free, sugar free. I’m sorry are you made of magic? A frozen 150 measly calories per pint fairy dust? Did Gandalf himself conjure you up and set our paths on a collision course? Answer: Yes. You, my dear Diet Ice Cream, are made of chocolate and peanut butter, my two favorite things in the whole wide world, apart from cheese and my yoga pants….but I was wearing one and already had five varieties of the other, so you take the metaphorical cake today.

Rushing to get home and tear into this bad boy, I silently thanked the heavens for providing me with this treat that wouldn’t leave me standing in front of the mirror, regretting my decision as I prodded the various bulges marring my tummy.

Spoon in hand, me and the pint nestled into the couch for a quiet evening of the Travel Channel and some serious quality time with my sweet tooth, my excitement building as I took the first bite.

Wait. Something was terribly wrong. It was like the rancid lid of my garbage can opened up and crawled into my mouth, leaving a trail of disappointment and confusion. You aren’t from Gandalf, unless he pulled you from the fiery depths of Mordor and you are, in fact, made of Orc toots. I literally think I just put rotten protein shake in my mouth.

Maybe my body is just in shock from sugar deprivation. One more bite. Nope—it actually tastes worst. Even for 150 calories, I cannot force feed myself this travesty.

Was it naïve to think that ice cream, removed of everything that makes it ice cream, would be worth my time or consumption? Probably. Sans cream, it is simply sugary ice. Remove the sugar and apparently you get the farce sitting before me, useless, disappointing, not even a semblance of its former purpose maintained.

My dating life, like my culinary life is on a diet, simply removing the excess, paring off the ones that prove unnecessary for my emotional nutrition and growth. Not that they are inherently bad or unhealthy, but if missing the essential ingredients needed to make the partner I am looking for, am I doing us both a disservice for snacking on a treat that I know will not sustain my hunger?