The Day I Was Sick of Ice Cream

The home tour in Marshall was quite nice. This was a windowbox display one Tudor style house had -- isn't it cute? Why can't I ever think of decorating ideas like that?!?

We stopped at Turkeyville on the way home and I was soooo hungry by then I'd have eaten pretty much anything. After I finished my turkey dinner, R and I checked out the gift shop and the ice cream flavors. She's been dying to get a double waffle cone forever and T will never let her, so I said it was okay. It was GIGANTIC and I said, "Oh, what the heck. Give me one too!" When we go out for ice cream, I usually get a baby cone or a kid cone, eat it all, and feel vaguely deprived. If the kids don't finish theirs, I finish it off for them -- and wish I had more. On Saturday, I finished my waffle cone -- which wasn't that great -- and R wasn't even halfway done before she gave it to me. She said, "I'm not really full -- I'm just sick of it". I thought, "How can you ever get sick of ice cream?!?" and took a few licks. Then I realized I was not only quite full, but I was also sick of it. Imagine that. I was sick of ice cream. Maybe that happens all the time to other people, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't ever happened to me before.

I had another moment of ....clarity?....last week when I went out to dinner with a friend. I realized when I had a few bites of meat loaf and half my squash left that I really didn't want it anymore. Okay... I ate it anyway. However, I did have the realization that I'd had enough, not because I was too full, but simply because I'd had enough. I have always wondered what in the heck those who write about intuitive eating are talking about when they discuss knowing when you're satisfied. Last week I actually felt it.