If I could painfully pluck the toe hairs off any single person in the entire world, it would be the person who invented serving sizes. There are only two possibilities for this guy or gal: They are either a fruit fly, or they decided to play the cruelest trick in world history. If you’re anything like me and all of Southeast Asia could fit into your stomach (still leaving room for dessert), then you can understand where I’m coming from.
If you’re not quite sure what I’m talking about, I’ll give you an example. The closest form of Heaven we have here on Earth, colloquially known as Nutella, has a serving size of two tablespoons. I know what you’re thinking: “Ariel! You misread! It’s two tabletops!”
If you’re really thinking that, you are actually half correct. For a good portion of my life, I did think the label said “tabletops,” (which, I’ll just say, led to many an awkward scene when my parents came home to find me enjoying my full serving size of Nutella … I’ll let your imagination fill in the rest). I now understand, however, that the only “top” Nutella includes is that of a muffin.
If you’re not sure how big two tablespoons is, the following will give you an idea: Pick up a feather (you can find one outside on any passing bird) and drop it onto a sidewalk. See the dent it makes in the concrete? That’s about three times the size of two tablespoons.
Just for the record, (this IS on record, right?) here are some other things that should not, under any circumstances, have serving sizes: brownie batter, (true life: I have been known to make batter with no intention of ever baking it. Just eat it raw, bro.), girl scout cookies and ferret fur.
…What? You don’t get why I included ferret fur? Gurl, please. It makes a great floss.
Oh, and the most important thing that should not have a serving size: snow days! (Note: that was the worst transition sentence ever.)
Anyway, you’re probably wondering where all the snow days went this year. It’s March, the worst of winter is behind us, and all we’ve been able to acquire in Massachusetts (the land of the terrifying nor’easters!) is one infantile, early release. There is a clear reason for this, and golly me, it seems so obvious now: Karma! (No, not her…)
I’m talking about the fire drill(s) someone (wink, wink, kiss, kiss) pulled. We lost a LOT of education during those drills, and the damage wasn’t just going to be repaired with a simple twenty-minute imprisonment the next day. No, Mother Nature (who has almost as much power — but does not look nearly as good in a suit — as the South administration) felt she had to involve herself and only make it snow on weekends. I think we’ve learned our lesson, Madame Nature!
Another thing whose whereabouts are probably concerning you is Senior Slump. I mean seriously: Come out, come out wherever you are! If only I had a nickel for every time I heard a teacher tell me I didn’t have to do any more work in the spirit of slump! I would have … let’s see here. Multiply by five, raise to the power of senioritis, carry the 8 … NO money.
At this point, I would even accept a mere two tablespoons of slump. (Although this doesn’t include the midnight fridge raid that’s bound to happen.)
