It's Over, Cheese

Dearest Cheese,

I'm sorry, but I'm ending my relationship with you.  Yes, the time has come.  I've tried to have some separation with you, but it's just not working.  You fool me with your creamy, shredded goodness and I have immediate regret.  Cheese, you make me regret you.

You see, at one time you had me wrapped around your little mozzarella stick.  Pulling me into that bowl of queso, or as the gringos call it, Cheese Dip, and telling me that the little icky feeling in my stomach was okay.  So I kept up our relationship - thinking there was something I was not doing to help in our journey from dairy land.

At times, I even thought this feeling was caused by overeating - silly thought, I know - but after being watched during bootcamp by these skinny fusionista's, I knew deep down you were the culprit.

And while your distant relative, Milk never fails me, you slap me in the face with that ricotta and sliced Monterrey jack.  Yes, Monterrey jack on sandwiches, warmed on this great contraption called a panini press.

I thought I had done well for a few days - while you were out of mind, you definitely were not out of sight.  Tony cannot leave you, but somehow you do not betray him like you have betrayed me.  Of course he tries to mend our relationship, telling me that there is this little pill I can take before....but I can't be led into drugs just to enjoy your melty goodness in Mom's enchiladas...well maybe just one time.

So while you will fill the tummies with your stinky Gorgonzola and blue cheese on salads and tiny but overly priced fruit and cheese trays, I will reject you. Please don't mold. It's time. We had our last time together last night on some great chili (that I made in the crock pot! Points for me!), but you failed me again.  And this time you in turn failed Tony, since he had to hear me complain about all of your faults.

But do not fret, you'll always have a place in my heart, and maybe we'll be reunited again in enchiladas during the holidays. I'll even wave to you as I pass your homeland, the Osceola Cheese Factory, where your mice friends enjoy you.  However, I'll have to drive past, unless I stop in for a ginger snap cookie, cause dang that shi  ahem, cookie is good.

You know that mouse is only holding his stomach because he's actually lactose intolerant.

Goodbye cheese.  Thank you for all the memories, the espinaca dip at Jalapenos, the huge vat of cheese dip in college, the string cheese with apples, your melted goodness on nachos, and even the feta crumbles on my salads. Take your deliciousness and calorie craziness with you and go, leave me with less tummy pain.  It's for the best.

May you not get mold all the way through your cheese bricks, so others can enjoy more.


-Caitlin