Ice Cream in Rye Redux

Oh jeez. I just channeled Paul Harvey: “…and now you know… the rest… of the story!”

The ice cream saga didn’t end with the cone I showed you last night. But before I tell the rest I have to warn you: this is me in whacky OCD mode. If you already find my thought processes to be discomfitingly obsessive — and believe me, I’m with ya on that one — you may want to just skip this entry.

So. Here’s what happened. I’d been to Longford’s Ice Cream in Rye several times with Grace and Catalina. I’d always gotten a waffle cone with two scoops, and it was bloody expensive but also frickin’ huge. So that was what I was expecting when I ordered the cone last night. But apparently I said “sugar cone” when I meant to say “waffle cone”. And what I got was this puny little unsatisfying cone that was at most half of what I expected.

I finished the cone in no time, sourly concluding that they had drastically reduced their portions. Grace and Catalina and I strolled around Rye, and I got more and more obsessed with how unsatisfied I was with that little cone. I felt anxiety about about what it meant for Sunday.

One of my more noticeable diet-torpedoing pathologies is my tendency to engage in scope creep. This is never more apparent than on the day after my weekly eat-whatever-I-want day.

As an example, let’s say I set my eat-whatever-I-want day for Saturday. When Sunday morning rolls around I don’t want that glorious day to be over, so I tend to let it bleed over. This is very easy to do because there’s probably lots of good stuff left in the fridge from Saturday.

See, by the time Saturday morning arrived, I had already spent a good amount of time thinking of all the delicious food that I’d pack into that day. So when I went to the store, my eyes were way bigger than my stomach, and I bought more than even I could realistically eat in one day. Sunday comes, and “Oh! How convenient! There are leftovers!” Delectable, enticing leftovers.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how I need to differentiate “eating what I want for a day” from “cramming as much food down my throat as I can in a day”. On the other hand, I’m becoming more aware that to have the strength to eat sensibly, I need to eat strategically: I need to make sure that I’m satisfied. That goes doubly for my eat-whatever-I-want days.

So, back to the ice cream cone: I was afraid that, on Sunday, I would use Saturday night’s dissatisfaction to rationalize a little extension of eating whatever I want. I couldn’t let that happen. And besides, it was my eat whatever I want day, and dammit, I wanted the ice cream cone that I wanted!

So I went back to the ice cream parlor and ordered a cone. That wasn’t a mistake. The mistake was not realizing that, when I ordered a waffle cone, they would give me frickin’ huge scoops and charge me $6 for it. I gave Grace a few bites, but overall I was left feeling like I’d put a toe over that line between eating what I want and eating as much as I could.

I had a thought this morning that I wished I’d had last night: just like with the hot chocolate, there was no law saying that, once I had the second ice cream cone in my hand, I had to eat it. I got much more than I expected to get, so the logical thing to do would have been to chuck half of it. It never even occurred to me, but it will from now on.

In any event, I’m satisfied that I navigated my eat-whatever-I-want day much more sensibly than previously. Today my weight spiked much less than it usually does after such days, and I was able to return to a sensible eating and exercise pattern. Go me!

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