No Guilt, Only Pleasure

‎I hate ice cream for some reason. The cold sensation it gives on my throat isn’t quite exciting to me. As unpleasant as it may feel, I hate the sugar generously added to it. I feel like eating ice cream dragged me closer to diabetes, a degenerative disorder my father is struggling against and living with.

But one day, back then, a buddy treated me. He — who is known for his thrift — ‎let me try a cone of ice cream. What a chance!

He knew I hated ice cream. Still, he bought me and made me eat it. I couldn’t get him through. I could have just thrown it away or left it melting on the table. But I wasn’t that rude or impolite so I just licked it all. ‎I respected his generosity and if I hadn’t, I must have felt bad and sorry for myself for misbehaving.

‎Sometime later, he texted me saying,”I just gained several kilograms.” I screamed and then begged for the secret. He knew my body weight ‘issue’.

‎He confined in me. Thanks to ice cream!

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