Dear diet industry,
You are maddening. And more confusing than a season and three reunion episodes of Real Housewives. "Don't eat carbs." "No, eat the carbs." "Don't eat fat." "No, no, you gotta have fat...'good' fats." "Don't eat egg yolks." "Eat the damn yolks!" Blah blah blah. And don't even get me started on the fitness meshugana. I just saw a commercial for panties with built-in butt enhancements. I thought we wanted the junk outta the trunk. When did this happen?
You make me want to go around talking to people with my finger and scary voice. "Redrum."
And now you're hitting me where it hurts...in the space reserved in my heart just for dairy products. You know how much I love my skim milk, Greek yogurt, cheese...cottage, string and Jarlsberg...and did I mention skim milk? You know I might have been a baby calf named Peanut in another life...and want one of those silver milk machines you see in college dorms and soda shops installed in my dream kitchen someday.
Now you wanna tell me dairy is bad for me? PS...thanks a lot for sending me the angry vegan who tried to win her argument by informing everyone within earshot that there's pus in milk. In her most condescending tone. "So I guess you want to drink milk infected with pus?!?"
It almost made me want to put the bottle down. Almost.
Then, I met Hank. Someone I've been waiting 36 years to meet. Not because he is a hottie from New Zealand who looks and sounds like a young Paul Hogan (who is Australian, but still). No...Hank is engaged. But it's what he does for a living. He is a dairy farm consultant. Let me say that again. He is a dairy farm consultant. A hot dairy farm consultant from New Zealand who spent an hour with me answering every question I ever wanted to know about the dairy process. In a New Zealand accent. Homogenization. Pasteurization. The shiny cylindrical trucks you see on the road that are filled with milk. PS...did you know they aren't refrigerated (although the milk is put in at just above freezing point)? And that the drivers can't stop once it's filled? I wanted to ask how they use the bathroom, but thought it might be too much. In any event, they never have to drive more than five hours to drop it off. Maybe they just hold it. Or use an empty plastic Coke bottle. How will I live with the mystery?
PS, angry vegan girl...the pus thing is so NOT true!
PSS...did you know they have milking robots now? Look!
So, diet industry, while you are off fracturing the masses, I'm going to look for a Hank and a dairy farm of my very own. Of course, I'll have to hire someone to wake up at 4:30 to do the milkin.' I'll come in around 11:00 to pet/frolic with the cows. And hand out empty plastic Coke bottles. You know, just in case.