Dear Cardi B,

When I first heard the rumor that I was going to be mentioned in your new song “WAP,” I was beyond excited. Because as you may know, thanks to diets, my popularity over the years has always been a little hot and cold. Keto, Atkins, and of course we can't forget Paleo. How do they know cavemen didn't enjoy the occasional cheesy noodle dish? Absolutely reckless to suggest not, if you ask me.

So anyway, I was excited to get my name back out there again. Get some hype. Get some “cred” as they say. I mean come on, Jack Johnson sang about banana pancakes, The Barenaked Ladies gave a shoutout to Dijon, and even that perv mayonnaise made it big with The Smashing Pumpkins. Now it was finally my turn.

I simmered with anticipation for weeks. I told all of my friends: Spaghetti on a Plate, Penne in a Bowl, Rigatoni in a Pan. I said they’d better start showing me some damn respect, because I was about to be a star. I was going to be the highlight of “WAP,” which I assumed stood for something like “warm and pleasant,” as it's a perfect description of me. They said they were excited too, but I could tell they were a little jealous. A little tense. A little “al dente,” if you know what I mean. But I didn't let that get to me. In fact, I kind of liked it. Because as cheesy as it sounds, this was my moment. Well, our moment, Cardi.

When the day finally came, I threw on some powder and added my best REAL cheddar cheese, salted butter, and milk. 2%, because go big or go home, right? My family and I booted up Potify (a streaming service for noodles & dried goods) and listened intently.

Cardi, I was in utter shock at what I was hearing. We all were. The kitchen was so quiet you could hear a rolling pin drop. I couldn’t believe that you were comparing me—wholesome, comforting, kid-friendly macaroni—to the sounds of a certain part of the female anatomy.

And listen, I'm a feminist, okay? Like, part of me felt empowered by your choice of words. But I'm also a traditionalist, and honestly, I’m a huge prude.

Do I wish that I had given the song a listen first on my own? Yes. Do I wish I checked out your other discography to see what I was in for? Also yes. Do I wish that I didn't enthusiastically choose the uncensored version and turn the volume up to eleven so that everyone, including my Grandmacaroni, heard it? Absolutely. But, like boiling my noodles for 7-8 minutes, what was done was done.

Mortified, I hoped the song would fly under the radar. But then it debuted at number 1 on the Billboard charts!! It was trending on Twitter. Even kids on Tik Tok made a VERY tasteless dance to it, which offended me because I’m all about taste. Good, affordable taste!

I had become more popular than ever. Republicans were talking about me. People were singing my name in the streets. Middle school boys were suddenly making me every single day.

But this is not the kind of fame I wanted. I also don't appreciate being associated with the lyric, “I wanna gag, I wanna choke.” That part got me pretty steamed up. I may seem tough on the outside, but once subjected to the right temperatures, I’m actually soft and tender. I have feelings. People say I’m a simple carbohydrate, but I’m really quite complex.

The bullying I faced at home was of course, immediate. Some tortellini wrote “Certified Freak” in ketchup on me. They said they were just making me taste better, but that’s debatable. Spaghetti on a Plate started a hate page about me on Pastagram (a photo sharing service for non-perishables.) My relationship with the strainer remained, well, strained. But the worst was the damage to my once respectful, platonic partnership with the wooden spoon. She now looks at me in disgust with every turn.

The only ones who can feel my pain are the bucket and a mop. But you didn’t even think about us when you wrote your song, did you? Because you don’t cook and you don’t clean!

Look, I’m not asking you to fix this, I doubt you even care. I’m simply writing this letter because I’ve reached a boiling point and needed to let you know how you’ve destroyed my life and my legacy. I used to be a modest, reliable staple for latchkey kids and poor college students. Now I’m a freak bitch, and an audio double in the pornography industry. That’s a travesty Cardi, especially since the money is only good if you’re on camera.

I can only hope that you’ll think twice before you write your next single. That you’ll think about those you could hurt—the cereals, the dairy products, the legumes—all of us on the food pyramid. And if you have any humanity in you, I hope you can do me the small favor of letting everyone know that I respectfully ask to be oven-baked from now on.


Macaroni in a Pot