I might love ice cream just a little too much

The question of what my favorite flavor is ought to excite me because I love ice cream, but instead it frustrates me. Every time I’m asked this question, I need at least a good 10 seconds before answering. It’s one of the most seemingly innocent questions you could ask to get to know someone better, but it unleashes a flurry of madness in my mind. 

There’s just too much to process about the question. The reason why I love ice cream so much is because there are so many delicious offerings out there. How can I mention just one flavor and neglect the rest? It’s like having a dozen wonderful children and being asked to pick your favorite. I’ll say “chocolate” out loud but then internally cry because I also love coffee, pistachio, matcha, vanilla, coconut and... the list goes on. 

I also don’t want to be that person who answers with, “Oh, I love all flavors.” It annoys me when people do that because it feels like such a cop-out. I mentally accuse them of being lazy and unwilling to put in the effort to make the decision. I’m a cynical person, so while I know they could easily have the same problem, just genuinely loving so many flavors, I rarely give them the benefit of the doubt. 

There’s also plenty more to struggle with about that question. When picking a flavor to respond with, I also never know whether to answer with a generic “vanilla” or an exact, extremely specific and bougie-sounding “vanilla malt with roasted pistachios and chocolate ganache swirls.” Answering straight-up vanilla is always boring, and if I’m being asked the question, I might as well try and show my passion for the dessert being discussed. 

However, answering with such a specific flavor can be just as obnoxious as a non-answer because few people will actually be able to relate to you and say, “Hey, I like that flavor too.” 

But of course, this question isn’t the biggest struggle about ice cream. It’s the actual accessibility and possession of ice cream that is (well, was) the issue. I was absolutely heartbroken at the beginning of the fall semester when I moved into my double in Charles Commons and found a mini-fridge in the kitchenette. I had been under the impression that all suites would get a full-sized fridge, even if it were a double. The freezers in these minifridges are insanely tiny and unfit to store pints of ice cream, unless you divided them up into your own Tupperware. If I wanted ice cream, I had to go over to my friend’s suite with a full-sized fridge and ask to use it.

Of course, things got difficult fast when I would store ice cream in my friends’ fridge. While there are times where I’ll binge eat the entire pint, usually I’ll save some for later. Inevitably there would be times in the afternoon where I craved ice cream, would go over and knock but nobody would be home to let me in and satisfy my craving.

For this reason, it was actually the greatest blessing ever when my suite’s minifridge developed issues with temperature control and was replaced after winter break. We got a new sleek, incredibly aesthetic-looking black mini-fridge free of charge. Most importantly, the freezer’s size is incredible. At the moment, I have seven pints of ice cream stored in it. As unlikely as it seems, the ability to eat ice cream on my own schedule is also somewhat of a curse. 

I now consume enough ice cream on a daily basis that my weight has unfortunately been affected. Workouts have become less effective because I’ll eat a tub right afterwards. There’s a dress that I really want to fit into in time for a date party next week, so this change to my dietary habits has turned from euphoric to as stress-inducing as the question of my favorite flavor. I think at this point, ice cream is causing me more bad than good. I might need a little help.