saturday stats: i hope you weren't expecting perfection

This is the story of how I ate an ice cream cone for breakfast yesterday morning.

Dave and I share a car.  We share a tiny, beat up, prune juice stained Kia Rio. (One year and two months ago I would have never guessed that prune juice stains would be such a problem but trust me, they are.) Lucky for us, his employer has purchased a bus pass for him.  So if I want mobility during the day, I just have to make the five minute drive to the Kroger's parking lot where the bus picks him up.

When I was a full time working sugar mama I would have relished in the ability to stay at home all day eating bonbons and watching TV.  As a stay at home mom, I have found that there are never any bonbons, the only TV show Kate lets me watch is Arthur, and pretty soon the walls close in and you start to feel imprisoned in a jail of laundry and dirty dishes.  So most days I like to get out and this means either hoping for charity from my mom or taking Dave to the bus.

No big deal right?

Wrong.

Getting Dave to work on time means waking up my sleeping baby at 7:15 in the morning.

Let me repeat this for emphasis.

In the morning!

Waking my sleeping baby!!!

Yesterday morning I was not in a good mood.  Dave was in a great mood because it was Friday and his perkiness made me feel like the cheeriness of his voice was turned up to maximum volume and seeing at his bright smiling face was like staring directly into the sun.

(A very handsome sun, I might add.)

On days like yesterday, what drags me out of bed is the promise of a Diet Coke from the McDonald's drive through on the way home.  The McDonald's drive through is always a bitter sweet experience for me because while I get a sweet, chilly, effervescent Diet Coke I also am subjected to a visual assault of lustrously greasy fried foods.

I really truly have a hard time believing people who claim to "hate" McDonald's.  Maybe they hate the idea of it.  Maybe they hate the way it makes you feel later.  Maybe Ronald really just freaks them out.  But I'd like to sit down with them at one of those sticky booths and watch them eat a perfectly salted fry and lie to my face when they insist they don't like it.

Anyway, every time I'm there I look longingly at the food and try to justify getting something for my Diet Coke to wash down but ever since they printed those calorie counts my best logic still can't rationalize my way around it.

Until today.

Almost every morning I eat a fat free yogurt with a handful of raw almonds for breakfast.  The calorie count comes out to be somewhere around 250.  A McDonald's ice cream cone is 170 and I decided it was sort of yogurt so I ordered one.

And that is how I found myself licking a delicious ice cream cone at 7:30 in the morning.

And I didn't even feel bad.

Well okay.  I did feel a twinge of remorse when Katelyn spotted the ice cream cone in her carseat mirror and started begging like a dog.  And I kind of hoped no one who knew me was driving along Highway Six at 7:30 in the morning watching me eat my ice cream cone for breakfast.

I never said I was perfect.

I like this picture because the ice cream cone looks like it's surrounded by glorious clouds.  Also the caption literally read, "Healthy ice cream cone."  So...  I was just being healthy.

So I spent all day yesterday debating whether or not I should share this information with all of you.  I argued to myself that I ate even less calories because of the ice cream cone and that really, it was just a good serving of dairy.  Eventually I reminded of the true purpose of this blog.  I wanted to portray a real and raw account of weight loss, obesity, and food addiction and not a sucralose coated before and after picture.  I've been nothing if not honest here and I wasn't going to change over 170 calories worth of McDonald's ice cream.

Yeah, I need a new pedicure.

I hope I haven't been too disappointing.

Weekly Total: 2.5 pounds
Grand Total: 9.5 pounds