I believe there has been a misunderstanding.

You have eaten the yogurt.

Not most of it. Not almost all of it. You have eaten the yogurt in every nutritional, meaningful, and acceptable way. No one can realistically accuse you of not eating the yogurt.

Even though you can technically see me, I’m here to tell you I have served my purpose. I am no longer yogurt. I am trash.

I can see you doing the math. You tilt the container and stare at me for a few seconds. You give it a slight shake, as if I might increase in volume. At the risk of disappointing you, this is all I have to offer.

I don’t want you to fight for me. Believe me, a disproportionate amount of effort will be needed to capture me. I need you to know that I am not worth it.

This is not an attempt at reverse psychology. I’m not trying to be saved from eating. I was always meant to be consumed. What I am asking is that you stop making an effort for me.

If you decide to continue with this endeavor, you will lose more than I could ever give you.

Please know that you are now scraping your spoon 129 times on and against garbage. This is what you are struggling to eat. If you insist on doing that, I promise I will cling to this container with every fat and protein left in my body. Even if it means using all of my remaining calorie to make that point.

Okay. Good job, you’ve set the spoon down. 

At last. Before you finally send me to where I belong, I’d like to say my goodbyes. Our time together was brief. We both know we had our ups and downs. But I’m glad we could end this before either of us had to endure unnecessary humilia–

No.

No, no, no. Wait. Why are you lifting the container? Why are you bringing me so close to your mouth?

This is not what I meant. I did not know there was another possibility beyond the spoon.

Please do not lick me. I am asking you to pause and reflect on what you are gaining. It’s not enough to justify losing your dignity.

And there it is. You did it. You opened your jaw as if you thought I were a triple bacon cheeseburger. Then, you proceeded to contort your tongue in ways meant for the most private, intimate moments.

And you still missed me. Why would you possibly assume that licking a container with no visibility was a good strategy?

But this was never about strategy, was it.

It’s troubling how much you enjoy being in control. You love that I am difficult. You are willing to violate my container, but you refuse to take one sip of the full water bottle beside you.

You are not proving anything to anyone. Eating me does not make you a better person. You are not saving the planet. My container is still very much 100% plastic.

But you already knew all that.

You are not trying to eat more yogurt. You are trying to extend the moment in which there is still yogurt. Refusing to admit that I am trash allows you to delay the inevitable:

Snack time is over.