Cottage Cheese...

I love cottage cheese. Not the kind that is in my butt, thighs or stomach, the kind that comes in the plastic container with the cow on the front. Low calories, pretty white color, and you can even add fruit in it. What could be better? I sat down with the entire container, my dogs drooling waiting for a bite, and I open it. Its very similar to cream cheese where when you open it, it sometimes has the liquid on the top. The yellow-ish color that you have to mix back in before spreading it on your bagel. That is what greeted me as I opened the fresh new container. Gross. It is like the guy that sneezes in his hand before shaking yours. Not the kind of first meet and greet I wanted. I let it slide and stirred it up.

I took the first bite of cottage cheese. I totally understand where they get the metaphor of cottage cheese in your butt and thighs. It made me think of all the magazines where you had to guess which celebrity had the worst cellulite of July. I should make a column “eat cottage cheese to get rid of yours”. Health Magazine, I can see you already. Anyway, I am eating this white deliciousness and start reading the container. As stated in a previous blog, while eating I can stare and read whatever is in front of me until I finish eating. It’s a habit but I started reading the ingredients in it. Basically it’s curdled milk with a better name.

I had the honor of staying at my parent’s house while they were on vacation. It had been a good three weeks since they were there. My mom who had left earlier before my dad, will throw out anything that will get stale or go bad and makes sure everything is clean for when she comes back. My dad on the other hand gets the important things done, hot water turned off, air conditioner off; cleaning out the fridge is not one of them. I decided being the golden child, to maybe clean things up a bit for when they return. I opened the fridge to find milk that should have been used weeks ago. I go to the sink and start dumping it out. Besides the clumps of white and yellow stuff, the smell was vomiting inducing. Sadly I decided that my dad would have to deal with the natural consequence and put the curdled milk back in the fridge. I can be a golden child a different time.

So here I was thinking of this incident, still taking bites. I couldn’t do it anymore. Besides the fact of thinking of the cottage cheese that was on my butt AND gross milk being poured down the drain, I couldn’t see myself putting this into my body. I now love cottage cheese on my butt, even on my thighs, but not so much anymore in the milk form.