Dear mint chocolate chip ice cream. I blame you for the start of my anxiety problems...
When I was 8 or 9, I discovered Baskin Robbins. Baskin Robbins 81 Flavors of ice cream (OK, it was actually 31 flavors, but for a kid of that age, 31 flavors was more than my little mind could comprehend...if it was more than 5, it didn't matter if the number was 31 or 81). It was one of the occasional treats that my parents could afford, so of course I cherished every precious minute I spent in one of those pink and white parlors.
Each time we went into the B&R store, I didn't even have to put my greasy little fingers on or breathe on those bewitching glass cases filled with rows of dazzling, creamy, sugary (we can't forget the sugar) vats of decadent delight (at that age, decadent wasn't a part of my vocabulary, but I'm telling this tale as a 40-something and that word describes the scene beautifully). I knew exactly what I wanted: mint chocolate chip.
We didn't go to Baskin Robbins often, but each trip started out the same: I would sit in the car, already knowing I wanted mint chocolate chip, I would stare into space and beat myself up mentally for not trying any one of the the other 30 flavors. I would try to talk myself into trying another flavor. It seemed wrong to always choose the same when there were so many other flavors screaming out, "Try me, try me!" I used to actually become anxious and nervous and upset with myself for not trying a new flavor. I know, it is strange, but if you've read my blog before, you know all about my anxiety issues.
I sometimes convinced myself to try something else like the bubble gum or the rasperry, but 9 times out of 10, it was mint chocolate chip, and a ride home filled with self-loathing, and repudiation seemed natural.
Of course, I hadn't realized I did this to myself as a child until recently. I don't eat ice cream so much now, but Poseidon and I were repainting our bedroom a mint green shade and it all came flooding back like a massive crack in the Hoover dam.
Last weekend, while running some errands, we walked by a Ben & Jerry's store. As mentioned earlier, I don't really ever have a strong desire for ice cream, but I told Poseidon I wanted a milk shake. I walked into the store, full of resolve. I would end my childhood anxiety over ice cream once and for all. I took a deep breath, and without looking into those charming, captivating cases, I responded to "Hey, how can I help you?" with "I'll have a mint chocolate chip milkshake please."
--Fortuitous Observer
