Yogurt. Why? The consistency is disgusting to me. The idea of it is disgusting to me. Curdled milk of an animal mother? Oh hell yeah, dude! Why wouldn’t I? OK, maybe that’s too far and totally un-bachelorette of me. Am I taking a stand against something? No. Never.
So there’s this new thing on the market since last I was vegan called Greek yogurt. You’ve probably all heard about it already but I was busy chewing on lemon grass sticks and wearing smelly canvas shoes. It’s fine. Greek yogurt minimizes the runny snot feature of yogurt so I dig it. Plus, it has more protein and protein makes bodies TIGHT!
Plus, I have no time. EVER. I’m occupied 24 hours a day so I don’t have time to cook (also, I just can’t cook). I don’t have time to shop (treat myself? NO). I don’t have time to eat (that’s so Bachelor). All I have is the 1 second it takes to pull the plastic film off something and shove it in my sensual mouth.
Here’s a pic of my yogurt from this morning. It’s split into two portions. WHAT?? One part is the yogurt and the other part is the flavor. At first, I thought why wouldn’t they just put them together? Do I look like I need another decision to have to make? Have consumers bullied yogurt companies out of mixing the flavor goop into their own damn yogurt? Do I have to do everything!? Corporations are supposed to tell me what tastes good. I don’t have time to care about what yogurt tastes like. I barely have time to eat it!
Then, I realized. This is a test. This is the patriarchy testing the strength of women! Duh! That quarantined ooze is where all the sugar, flavor, and smiles live. If you want to be the hottest person in the world and find love on TV that means NO FLAVOR. You’re done enjoying food. You have to save calories for the mixed drinks and lipstick you accidently swallow. I’m not going to enjoy this yogurt. I’m not stupid!
All I can do is stare at the flavor gel and imagine what it tastes like. Actually, I want the flavor to be so close to the food that it drives me nuts. I want to resent the very packaging of my food. It’s not just the plastic hair extensions seeping into my brain; this yogurt is testing me. I’m not going to fail. I’m not going to let this congealed flavor dump destroy me. I’m a hottie. We don’t eat sugar. We rub it on our dead skin and exfoliate the pain away. There’s no way I’m gonnna put this toxic sludge into my perfect body. I’d never fit into a limousine.
I will smell it really hard tho.