I. LOVE. ICE. CREAM. I don’t really need any other dessert. I don’t mind them, but they’re basically irrelevant to me. I prefer my sugar and cream in the frozen form. Thank you.
And by ice cream, I mean Blue Bell. Obviously.
My mom instilled this love in me from a young age. Like I think since before I was born. We have always been well-known for our love of ice cream. She is still my favorite ice cream date.
In college (yep, I was a solid 18 years old), I was distraught to find out that a pint of ice cream, which I had always considered a “single serving” is in reality four servings. Four! Seriously. Who decided that?! Probably someone who hates babies and flowers and basically all things happy.
In high school, I wrote a five-page compare/contrast paper about coffee and ice cream. I ended it with this astute observation: “Coffee ice cream is the answer to all of our problems.” Yep. All of them. I’ve always leaned a little toward the dramatic.
I went to college in North Carolina in a town that, when I arrived, had neither a Starbuck’s nor Blue Bell ice cream. The struggle was real, y’all. Real. And not always pretty. Fortunately, I had a car, and I was not unwilling to drive the 30 minutes to the nearest Starbucks. But Blue Bell was not to be found.
Until my sophomore year.
When I heard the familiar jingle…you know the one: