I’m sitting here trying to think deep thoughts, but my brain is as shallow as a side-walk puddle after a light rain. Depth eludes me. I spent the day shopping, an activity I hate, but that my mother loves, that my children need, and that my empty refrigerator demanded. I emerged from this retail orgy with a happy mother; grumpy, ungrateful children; a full refrigerator; and a little prize for myself — Haagen Daaz. If I’m going to be a martyr, I’m going to be a martyr who is pleasingly plump thanks to butterfat.
I really have an unhealthy fondness for butterfat. I love butter, whipped cream, ice cream, and full fat yogurt. I don’t think there’s any meal that can’t be improved with butter. I’m not a fool, so I do limit my intake substantially. I use butter infrequently, I buy Haagen Daaz only when it’s on sale, and I’ve learned to like fat-free yogurt. Without these limitations, I’d be Miss 5 by 5. So in honor of the fate I avoid, here’s a song for you: