Just to add to this: when the whole anti-fat movement came around, and things like cheese and butter became the devil, people began eating fewer vegetables. If they had always had, say broccoli with a cheese sauce, and were then told: Fat bad! Do not eat fat! they might steam the vegetables, once or twice, and then…

The “be happy” part is key. Your brain will thank you.

The ones that have made fat-free a billion-dollar industry. Those Americans.

Yes, I know. And you really have to look. I think that many people would be surprised to realise how much sugar is in the default (most common) types. Silk may well have a lower-sugar alternative, but it isn’t the most prominent one. Luckily, we are all more hip to the damage sugar causes now (including a possible…

Amen, sister. I know. I know.

Not you, babe. Uh-uh. No one puts Las Estrellas taste buds in a corner!

Yeah; self-hatred specifically. Consider yourself lucky: the blue milk just meant it was disgusting, and no one wanted to drink it. Now fat-free milk is loaded with lactose (which destroys the protein structure by pre-digesting it) in order to make it more palatable. You were spared.

I know! I wish we knew that at your age!

I would think it sadder if it were for her kids!

Wouldn’t pasghetti have been wonderful?

Fat-free generally does taste better to the American palate. Because that which they remove in fat; they make up in sugar (especially milk y’all). I was fat-free for years (during the Susan Powter era), and basically turned myself into a pre-diabetic. This is the reason for which Silk does not earn “respect” from me;…

SO Room 222

I’m okay with that.

Yeah; I was about to comment that anyone of an (ahem) certain age who cannot pronounce Amandla; it just shows me what they were doing in the nineties when the rest of us were trying to shut down the Apartheid state. Amandla Ngawetu was the constant refrain.

Okay, so this is what asses looked like in the seventies. These are the asses we all had.

When Donald Trump took over Bill the Cat’s brain.

You might make forty. Might.

Beautifully written.

When I lost a tooth during a family vacation at my grandpa’s house in Massachusetts, I was stoked to see a $20 bill waiting for me underneath my Magic 8 Ball. Sophia gets six bills and an array of jewelry and accessories from Claire’s.

Also: I’m glad you liked it (caffeine has kicked in!): for a while, I wondered why she kept it if she did not want it published, but your response gave me a new perspective. That is: perhaps it was more like a journal than a manuscript at that point, documenting a personal evolution, and thus she did not destroy it.…