Dear Kraft Macaroni & Cheese,
Oh, we are such grand old friends. You and your delightfully versatile pal Ramen Noodles were there for me in college, and I will never forget the way you kept me alive during the more financially bereft phases of my existence. Never.
We even endured the English boyfriend together, and his irritating way of referring to you as “Kraft Dinner” instead of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. We mocked him by saying “Kroooffft Dinn-ahhhh” when he left the room while rolling our eyes at each other conspiratorially because he was nearly 30, yet couldn’t drive a car. And remember how we laughed when he bragged about his accent like it was some sort of girl magnet, when really, he’d been in the states for over a decade and was obviously trying so hard? Poor insecure little man. Oh, we had fun making fun of the “Brit-iot,” didn’t we?
But the honeymoon is over, I’m sorry to say. I broke up with the loser who mispronounced your name mostly because I was tired of chauffeuring a large man-child around Los Angeles, as pushing a stop pedal and a go pedal were apparently beyond his skill set. Now I am also breaking up with you, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese. I do feel worse about dumping you than I do for leaving the aforementioned ex-boyfriend, in case that helps.
The first reason I must bid you goodbye is that I have a child now; a child who would eat you for every single meal, if allowed. I cook you so often that I am ridiculously sick of smelling your hot, milky cheese and starch smell. I am nauseated right now just thinking about you. “Hot Dairy” would make a great band name or lactation fetish pornography title, but I’m pretty sure there will never be a Scentsy© candle.
The second reason is that since giving birth, simple carbohydrates seem to make me instantly gain weight. It’s a bit horrifying. I merely look at your bloated, white pasta-ness and poof! There go the thighs again. It’s like my ass and thighs are in some sort of middle-aged expansion competition, and I can’t pick a winner.
So as you can see, it’s just not working out between us anymore, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese, but thanks for the years of service and loyalty. You were there when I needed you most, and I’ll never forget that. It’s not you, it’s me. I swear.
Also, tell bread to call me… we need to talk.