Heroine for my soul

Did you know that I can't remember the last time I had real ice cream? I know, my Ice Cream Counterpart will be sorely disappointed. A few weeks ago I had a Haagen Dazs ice cream bar, but since then, nothing. And an actual bowl of milky, creamy, oh so chocolatey frozen goodness? I can't recall and it makes me sad. I've abandoned my love and can't remember our last good moments together. What kind of person am I?

What's even worse is that it has been over a week since I've had any form of chocolate at all. Yes, you read that correctly. A. WEEK. Just typing that makes me want to weep.

I couldn't find a picture that embodies the depth of my feelings for the missing chocolate in my life. Most likely, it wouldn't be appropriate for the terms I "agreed" to when I created this blog. Snapshots of naked skin, melted chocolate, and it gets kind of fuzzy and more inappropriate after that, so we'll move on.

In an effort to aide my body in finding it's pre-grad school self, at the least, I'm trying to cut out (cut back on) some of the worse things I eat. Well, at least to make better decisions instead of just thinking them. Sigh. It is so depressing to not be 17. To be in that body with appreciation, instead of loathing would be wonderful.

I haven't drank any Coke in an age, also. Cutting out my sweet, tooth rotting, nectar hasn't been as difficult as I thought it would be, but that could be because I'm still allowing soda on occasion, just diet, and only rarely. I shudder at the thought of it (it being diet), but cold turkey is no friend of mine.

There was a line in The Starter Wife where Molly is bitching about her divorce and one of her friends comments on her crabbiness and she replies with "Of course I'm cranky, I haven't eaten in 12 years!". Eating healthy meals, healthy proportions, is so unfulfilling. I've probably given that I am grotesquely large, and while I am allowed to think that because, honestly, what woman doesn't think she looks disgusting at times, I'm not. I am, however, more aware of metabolism and age than I ever wished to be.

I'm hesitant to talk about the exercise I've been doing. In analyzing why, I'm not coming up with anything other than I feel kind of insecure about people knowing I'm exercising. I don't want to hear "hey, good job!" or "keep up the good work!". I don't know why that is, but for now, it is what it is.

I'm not writing all of this to brag or sound all healthy and stuff. I actually just wanted somebody to know the pain I am going through. The loss. Desire. Oh, the desire. Inappropriate images in my mind again.