16 Handles, or "This is Fu--kn Yogurt?!"

I finally found myself in one of those 16 Handles stores (last I heard, they are supposed to be opening one here in Forest Hills sometime, too.) I say found myself in it, because, seriously, it was absolutely impossible to resist. I was in Chelsea walking by it, saw it and the next thing I knew I was inside and a woman was trying to force one of those small, little sample cups into my fingers. I refused. That is one place where I draw the line——yogurt samples. I am adamantly against them. I don't understand the entire premise. What is the worse thing that can happen to me? I don't like the yogurt I bought, so I don't buy it again. Do I need to brace myself against this possibility by sucking down a tiny sample of it before I eat it? No. I could be living in Afghanistan today or some god-foresaken place like that. I think I can survive buying a few bucks worth of frozen yogurt that I don't like. It won't kill me. I don't need to be sheltered from this experience by one of those little squishy sample cups.

Now, as for 16 Handles. I just don't get it. Why don't they just call it 16,000 pounds. Because that is really what I would eventually weigh if I keep going to this place. Are they really expecting me to believe that their cheesecake or root beer float flavored frozen yogurts are any less fattening then just buying Baskin Robins? Puhleeease!!! Come on!

And don't get me started on all the toppings. There are like a zillion of them. And yes, there's a few fruit toppings, but by the time I finished with the other one's I might as well have been eating a Carvel Banana Split Sundae, especially after I drenched the top with marshmallow and dark chocolate sauce.

Isn't it so typical of America that we have figured out how to make what was supposed to be a nice, healthy snack —— frozen yogurt —— into one of the most overly indulgent, fattening experiences we can possibly have?