The biggest downside to having a boyfriend is undeniable weight gain. I swear, dudes can eat whatever they want, whenever they want and it doesn't affect them in the LEAST! I watch my love down burgers, pasta, bagels, whatever, and not put on a pound or feel a shred of guilt. Somehow, God removed the genes in men that make women feel AWFUL about anything they put in their mouth that is not green. I'm never 'jealous' when he eats this stuff in front of me, because for the most part, I don't crave or wish I was eating a piece of steak or a plate of gnocchi. 
But the sweets, I can't resist! I won't even be hungry and if they are in front of me, watch out. Which is why I don't keep 1 pound bags of peanut M&M's lying around or any other 'traps'! I'll eat dessert with the best of them, but if that stuff is in my fridge or cabinets I will fall prey to mindless eating, just as easily as the next woman.
So last night, I was left to fend for myself for dinner as BF (code for 'boyfriend', as he will from here on out be known) grabbed a bite with his friend uptown. Good. I don't have to pick off his plate and I'll make myself a nice healthy dinner and go to bed early in preparation for my BALLET BODY DVD PR shoot on Good Morning America Health! (Very excited by the way!) Post yoga, I picked up some roasted cauliflower and decided I'd eat that along with a few chips and hummus and roast the brussel sprouts I purchased earlier in the day at the Farmer's Market. Nice easy, healthy. All went according to plan until BF said at about 9:30pm, "I want something . . . mmmm. . . like a mint chocolate cupcake!" Great! I figured I'd lace up, go for a nice brisk fall evening post meal walk with him to seek out what he desired and return to finish up the night and head to bed. Well, if you've ever been around mid-town NYC at 10pm on a Monday night, you'd know it's not exactly the mecca of late night cupcake joints. With the exception of Buttercup Bakeshop, which closes promptly at 9pm. How convenient. 
So, with no 'specialty shops' in site or anyplace to get a somewhat 'healthy' cookie, me and the BF dropped into the abyss of Morton and Williams, which for those of you who don't live in the city, is a chain grocery store. And mind you the grocery stores in NYC are NOT like the one's in L.A. where organic produce is as prevalent as conventional or there is a separate organic or 'health food' section. Oh no. Real estate is not easy to come by in this town, thus the shelves are filled with what a majority of America demands, which is not an organic wheat free cookie from Nana's (one of my favorites by the way!) But from a distant I'll I heard the BF yell "They have the Coconut Milk Cookie Dough ice cream!" And you can imagine that it all went downhill from there. Shit. What were the odds?!? Seriously? I can resist a cupcake, I can resist those icky cookies you see sitting in a grocery store bakery at 11pm that have probably been sitting there for well over a week. But the Coconut Milk Cookie Dough ice cream? I didn't have a chance in hell. And who was I to deny a man of his right to dessert? I'd just say no when we get home. I can do that.
Apparently I can't. 11 o'clock and I'm scarfing a portion of the good stuff along with some caramel soy crisps. WHAT?!? Am I so weak I can't wait ONE NIGHT to do this? Knowing full well, I had a shoot for which I should be looking my most radiant healthy and joyous self?!? Instead, I lie in bed awake until 3am, most likely due to a sugar high. They call this stuff PURELY DECADENT for good reason. Although for me, it is a great alternative to dairy ice cream, made with coconut milk, no gluten and no soy, I would still not label it as 'good for you'. It's perfect on a hot summer night when you are dying for an ice cream. Not ideal at 11pm in the middle of November.
The morning is not going to be pretty I thought. And as my alarm jolted me out of a deep slumber and a peculiar dream, I realized I was right and cursed myself. I can't believe I let myself DO THAT. And now hours later, post GMA shoot, I still feel awful. Tired, bloated, heavy and anything BUT beautiful. So in order to purge myself of the guilt, the anger at my BF for purchasing the culprit of my misery, and my undeniable hostility toward food, I write my feelings here. I am tired, cranky, and yes, pissed off.  Hopefully enough to remind me the next time I reach for a pint of pure decadence, to pick up my pen and paper instead.