A Break-Up Letter To Frozen Yogurt

We can’t do this anymore. You’re taking over my life. God forbid I think about you because the only way to get you out of my head is to give in to you. No matter what comes along: donuts, popsicles, cookie dough, ice cream, you will always and forever be my favorite. When you first became popular, it took me a little while to warm up to you. It was all too new for me. “I get to sample everything? I get to put as many toppings as I want?” Gone were the days of paying a ridiculous price for a flimsy extra few m&m’s. You call that a scoop, Cold Stone? Gone were the days of struggling to pick a flavor or a topping. You were revolutionary.

We shared some incredible moments together. From celebrating good grades, to cheering me up after a bad day, you were always there. Your Nutella, Plain Tart, Peanut Butter and Dulce de Leche hit just the spot, growing more comforting with each bite. Your array of topping choices is like something out of a dream, making portion-control utterly impossible. However, it wasn’t until I took the final bite that I realized your underlying toxicity.

You manipulate people with your “Low fat” and “No Sugar Added” labels, clearly seeing that the serving size is three ounces but come on now, if you expected us to follow that, you wouldn’t have made your cups so big. You fool us with your fruit toppings, convincing us we can be healthy if we so choose; all we have to do is walk past the chocolate-y, sweet n' salty candies/cereals and turn left when we reach the hot, decadent fudge, the ooey-gooey caramel, and the sticky, rich marshmallow sauce. Who are we kidding, if I wanted a fruit parfait I would’ve gone elsewhere…

As I peered down at the empty bowl you once resided in, the tiny remnants you left behind mocked me. Once again I allowed your sweetness to overpower the guilt and pain I knew I would feel after giving in to you. Once again, I left your store feeling icky, promising myself I would be stronger next time. But the next time would roll around and sure, I would make a pact to get the healthiest yogurt and to control my topping choices. But those pacts are easy to make when the temptations aren’t staring you in the face, and easy to break once they are. Before I knew it, I was squeezing those to-die-for cheesecake bites into every nook and cranny in the bowl I could find, telling myself, “at least I got the healthiest yogurt! That’s an improvement…”

The bottom line is, you’re not good for me. You taunt me after a long period exercising and eating healthy. You sense that my confidence and happiness are soaring and you can’t stand knowing that you weren’t the cause of it. So you entice me, give me short-term happiness, and leave me feeling like a failure and thinking all my hard work went to waste.

I don’t doubt that you make people happy. Kids love you, people who can control their portions love you—you don’t necessarily mean any harm. And it’s not just you that I have to part with; it’s brownies, potato chips, pancakes—it’s all the beloved cravings I got used to satisfying, only to be replaced by insecurities. One day, after I’ve finished constructing my self-control from the ground-up, I’ll give you another chance. My happiness and health is worth more to me than you are—even the peanut butter sauce that always sparks fireworks in my taste buds. They say “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” but in this case, absence will make the heart grow stronger.