It's her fault.

She's a bad influence.

Before she came and convinced me to go to Coldstone Creamery...

Oh no, not just once...

But TWICE!

In one week.

I didn't read the fine print included with a cup of Birthday Cake Remix with Cake Batter Ice Cream that said "WARNING: Can cause addiction in overweight aunts that think they have the same metabolism as 17 year old niece."

So, with clouds of cake batter distorting my ability to make sound judgment, I floated to the grocery to copy the heavenly taste.

It was easy. Too easy.

Begin with creamy ice cream and wait until it is at the perfect melty stage.

Add half a bag of dry white cake mix.

And sprinkles.

Stir. Taste. Stir. Taste. Stir. Taste. Stir. Taste.

Sorry.

Now bake brownies.

Add hot fudge.

Squish it all together with a spoon on a marble countertop.

Or in a styrofoam bowl.

Whatever works.

And watch the fat settle into your thighs.

Isn't that disgusting?

Okay, I'll admit.

Another bad decision on my part is to see her new haircut...

And try to do mine a little different.

She looked cute.

I looked like Donald Trump.

She goes home in the morning and I will start acting my age.

And eating carrot sticks.