Just Eat The Damn Donut, Ladies
I’m a young woman who, like many young women, enjoys a good carb every now and again. If said carb is deep-fried and covered in a sugary glaze, all the better. There are few pleasures in this world that are as direct and as pure as eating a copious, freshly-made dessert. And everything from hot chocolate to Nutella to cupcakes to ice cream to the aforementioned donuts are the kinds of things we should absolutely treat ourselves to once in a while. Imagine a life without an eclair every now and again — it’s a bleak and desolate picture. It’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. We should enjoy our sugary treats for all they’re worth.
The idea that something so simply perfect could become so bastardized is a tough one to believe, for sure. But it seems that even the eating of a fresh-baked cream puff is not sacred — and there are people who want to sully its purity by falsely justifying their indulgence. And if I have to sit through one more soliloquy delivered by some girl who is clearly enjoying the pants off of her cookie dough milkshake but feels the need to explain this dessert to the world — and her friends, no less — I’m going to go crazy. We all know the running commentary:
“Oh my god, I totally never eat this stuff, it’s so out of character for me to have sweets like this — really I’m not even a sweets person.”
“Well, good thing I’ve only had a tiny little salad and ice water today. I really shouldn’t be so naughty like this!”
“There is someone standing behind me with a gun and they told me that if I did not drink this entire cookie dough milkshake that they would find and kill everyone I’ve ever loved. I can’t live with that guilt *slurp slurp slurp*”
No one is fooled. No one is fooled. We all know that, like the rest of us, you are on the verge of orgasm over the fact that not only is there whipped cream on your dessert, but it’s that really super-thick kind that you can eat with a spoon like it’s ice cream. We know the distinct pleasure this brings — don’t sully it with your shamed commentary. There’s no need! Indulging in a dessert like this needs to be put on the highest of pedestals, enjoyed to its fullest potential. We need to stop acting like this is some tortured love story. This is not The Bridges of Madison Donut. Life will go on after this.
There are even those that go so far as to deliver the exact same speech about how they are “not a dessert person” every single time they take a bite of a cookie. Who are they convincing?! We all love cookies! They were created by scientists to sabotage Monsanto and regulate the bathing-suit industry. We know this. This is common knowledge. Open a book, and stop trying to deny history.
And if you really are that tortured about eating the dessert, if you are really that incapable of fully enjoying it, then don’t eat it. But the last thing we as a society need is more perfectly healthy, reasonable girls talking about how they are gonna get “soooo fat” from eating one chocolate-covered Oreo which they “totally never do, ever.” We do not need to participate in this worldwide conspiracy of pretending like it’s so incredibly unnatural for us to be enjoying this brownie. If one of us drops the facade, we can all do it, I’m sure.
Scream it from the rooftops, you ordered that Thunder From Down Under without a trace of irony, and you would cut your best friend’s spoon hand off for the whipped cream.
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It started with a right swipe, a little green heart. Tinder of course.
Though I acknowledge and appreciate the differences in human experiences, and while your heartbreak is (and always will be) uniquely and completely your own, I must urge you to consider that I have been where you are.
With his hat cocked back, body tilted away from his cane, and right forefinger pointing directly at his audience, Joseph Ducreux commands the attention of those viewing his self-portrait.
I was born in 1990; he was born in 1973. I’m 23; he just turned 40.