A siren's song did not echo through my kitchen this week.
And by siren, I don't mean the ear-piercing, hurry-up-and-get-out-of-the-house type. Oh no, I would have preferred that siren.
This siren was the mythological type. The sort that lures people off course and destroys their ability to think straight.
I could hear it from the freezer, beckoning me with its sweet, soothing song.
"Dawn… Dawn… I'm here. Come to me."
I did not cave.
I did not race to the freezer and embrace my tempter, deciding just a little bit would okay.
I did not place the carton of luscious sweet butter cream on the counter and in a half-dazed trance jab my spoon into the frozen delight.
Ice cream never tempts me... NEVER!
In my delirium, I did not loose control of my hand and catapult the scoop of ice cream over the counter…
And into one of Orville's galoshes.
I did not do this. I am far too self-controlled.
The sight of the frosty, snow white goodness inside a dirty, smelly rubber boot did not snap me out of my trance.
I did not reprimand myself with the words, "that's what you get for fudging on your diet."
I did not shove the carton to the back of the freezer and quickly wash away the evidence of my transgression.
1 comment:
LOL! Reminds me of a time when my SIL was dieting and prayed for self control. Later she was about to cheat by taking a cookie (I think she was at a picnic) and a bee stung her hand!
I have a hard time resisting ice cream too. : )
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