I want ice cream so goddamn bad right now it's absurd.

All ice cream will do is stall out my fat-loss regimen.
The spike is blood-sugar will be literally toxic.
Rushing to a store is tiring when I'm already tired and hungry.
It's money I could put to better use.
I won't even really like it.

I still want it. Even after stopping myself from getting it, I still kinda want it. What matters now is that, no matter how much I do still want ice cream, I'm not getting any; because at this point I can't.

Here's how my better nature won out in the end:

Step One: Identification

A pastor I know once told me about "euphoric recall," which is when you only remember the high of doing something without remembering the lows afterwards because of it: that was my first defense. I was telling myself over and over again, "you're gonna have one spoonful and you'll immediately feel guilty, exactly like last time." I reminded myself of how much having any left over would distract me tomorrow and for however long I had any more. It was all I could do, to remember how much progress I felt like I had lost after the last relapse (a bar of white chocolate yesterday).

That rush of excitement over getting a nice sweet treat was tempting, but all the bitter consequences surrounding it made that temptation a bum deal. A shiny bright potential joy has popped and left a dark miserable reality enough times that I can flip a euphoric recall into a dysphoric one, with conscious effort.

If only that's all it took to get out of the woods….

Step Two: Interrogation

I was still only forcibly denying myself, and that kind of willpower doesn't last forever. I was getting closer and closer to putting my shoes back on by the minute. Cracking was inevitable. I had to confront the desire, not just deny the desire.

"Do I want this?"
That's the question I started asking myself when I was about to go on a junk-food run, about 10 years ago.
"Do I want this?"
A moment's pause fell to truly audit whatever was going on in my head.
"Do I want this?"
The comparison of what I wanted against the means I thought would get me them hangs plainly.

The question was answered with "yes" a lot, at first. The addiction started off as strong as any other. The craving was on trial, even when the question was directed at myself. If nothing else, after a while, anyone'll start feeling stupid if they have to be asked the same question over and over and over again. The addiction was getting weaker as my private embarassment got stronger.

Those yes's turned into no's over time, no willpower needed. All the force of will was in asking the question, not the answering. I taught this technique to a co-worker of mine that wanted to quit smoking, and she made it seem like it was really helping her out. My problem this time was that it was looking like it was gonna be a "yes" kinda night, and ironically I did not want that.

Desperate measures were in order.

Step Three: Distraction

Virtue was not beating vice tonight, so I leaned into it and started to fight dirty.

I knew that I only had a limited amount of time to indulge in my gluttony. If I could just close that window of opportunity enough that the speed I'd need to move at to get ice cream would be more than my laziness would allow, I'd be free. The key was the small bit of delay on gratification if I got ice cream: I still had to go get it and bring it home. Ice cream took maybe tweny minutes to pay off, but my phone was instantaneous. I don't like what staying glued to my phone does to me, but I can tolerate the effects of that more than I can aftermath of falling off the physical-health wagon again.

A nagging voice kept reminding me that I had to get dressed and sprint to the store. It tried bargaining, noting that a smaller container would be less bad than the bigger container of the brand with better ingredients; that I've got more than enough budget for a little delivery-app call. It made scrolling on my phone a lot less pleasant with all its whining distraction: good, since I don't want faffing about on a smart device to be enjoyable either. The only option left to me now, in the middle of the night, is to bike out to a gas station in a thunderstorm to get some overpriced Haagen-Daz. That is not happening.

Two devils fought to the death, and the only winner was the angel on the sidelines. Time to wrap up.

Step Four: Substitution

Wanting ice cream means I'm hungry, thirsty, and hot all at the same time. I've done experiments and reflections, and found that ice cream is just a symptom of some reasonable maladies anyone ought to address when they arise. I did what I could to scratch my now-unreachable itch:

1. Ate a buncha meat
2. Drank a buncha ice-water
3. Took off my work shirt

Stomach was full of high-fat food, I was rehydrated, and I cooled off. Some ice cream would still be "nice," but it's nothing to get worked up over. (I think it's starting to fucking hail; what the shit! Ain't no way I'm going outside for anything!) At the end of it all, I got everything I wanted and nothing to regret. My insulin is low, and my ketones are up. My bank account remains pristine and unmolested.

There was a "step zero," preparation, but that's probably better as its own post. If I hadn't gone grocery shopping yesterday (when I had no meat in the house, and ended up getting that white chocolate), I'd have done something stupid today.

But I did,
and therefore I didn't.

Breaking a habit can be both simple and easy, if you do it correctly: you need to sell your soul to the right buyer. You become extraordinary when saying "no" becomes ordinary. My future self is going to thank me now for what I was able to resist: he's not gonna care how ridiculous I was when I fought the urge to stay fat, because I don't care now. If I cared, I wouldn't make a blog post about it!

You can be just as victorious in your own challenges. Just take the right steps. The only difference between the average shmuck and the super-successful is that they run through this process on auto-pilot. It's worked for a lot of other people, and it can work for you too.