I Am Yogurt


I have blonde hair. I have had it my whole life. When it naturally turned to a more golden dirty blonde, I began to lighten it. My mane was a glorious thing to behold. Platinum, icy white. It’s my thing. It’s who I am. I am the blonde mom.

I hate the movie Frozen. I am one of those people. It bored me, it’s been overplayed… and blah blah blah, a million other reasons people have.

Platinum, icy white. It’s my thing. It’s who I am. I am the blonde mom.

— Tabi Melhorn

Why am I telling you these two facts? Because soon after the movie came out I got the comment: “you have ELSA hair,” on the frequent. “No, Elsa has MY hair, little girl.” But I of course didn’t actually say this, because it makes you a Grinch. You’re supposed to smile and be all, “awww, she thinks I look like a princess”. So that’s what I did.

Thankfully, I was still pregnant with my oldest child when the movie came out, and so she is not part of the all entrapped Elsa-obsessed toddler cult. Yet. I savor these days.

One day, my mom and I went shopping with my daughter IslaJane, and she came across a pajama set with a GIANT Elsa head on it. She pulled it into the cart with her and said “Mama?” to it. In that moment, I hated Elsa only a tinge less, because when your own daughter thinks you look like a princess it is somehow less annoying, and suddenly very adorable.

Target is the mecca of all things Frozen, I have found since this first Elsa & Isla encounter. So each time we go in she finds an Elsa item and proudly shows it to me, and declares it “Mama”. It is our game.

One day, a few months ago, I bought her some kid flavored yogurt. On the wrapper, there was non other than the all beloved “Elsa”. Isla got hungry, asked for a snack, and I brought out this yogurt with the Elsa head on it. “MAMA! MAMA! MAMA!” Isla announced excitedly. In the moment my husband and I thought. It was then believed that Isla had made a permanent connection of referencing Elsa as Mama. Worse connections could’ve been made, i supposed.

Each morning she smiled at the “yogo” cups and dubbed them “Mama”.

And then we ran out of “yogo”.

So I went back to the store, and thinking the connection was still cute enough to indulge I purchased more “Frozen” packaged yogurt cups.

Bringing them home from the store from breakfast I got slightly giddy thinking of our fun little game we would play. I opened the box of yogurt cups right away and brought it to Isla, she looked at it a moment longer than normal and finally said “Mama” to it. As I dunked the spoon into the strawberry cream cup I saw it. This was not an Elsa cup. This was a cup with that lame little snowman on it. I wasn’t Elsa at all. I was dubbed a yogurt cup. We never bought the Frozen cups again, but it didn’t matter. Apparently the yogurt cup versions of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles make for just as good a “Mama” as Elsa.

There I was:  “Mama”, the “yogo” cup. You could feel the sense of arrival in my life.

I hate Frozen.