If you don’t like Dilly Bars, get over here so I can slap some sense into you. I have a hard time believing that anybody out there doesn’t enjoy them at least a little bit. I mean, come on. What’s not to like? Ice cream, artificial flavoring, and a fun popsicle stick to play with when you’re finished! Dilly Bars have everything one could want from a dessert, in my opinion.
You may be wondering whether or not Dairy Queen paid me to write the previous paragraph. No, they did not, although I’m still open to receiving a check if you’re reading, Dairy Queen. I’m writing about my love of Dilly Bars because it’s the cold, hard truth, and because I just ate one. I finished my dinner, and I was still hungry. Fairly hungry, actually. Ordinarily, I would have agonized over whether I was really hungry, tried to distract myself from being hungry, or tried to satisfy myself with something absurd like a carrot or a single cracker.
But tonight, something was different. I knew I was hungry. I knew I didn’t want a carrot. I knew I wanted ice cream. And, as much as it felt against the grain to do so, I promptly went out and bought a Dilly Bar. I brought it home, sat outside as the sun set, and ate my Dilly Bar contentedly. I ate it and moved on. I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t deny myself. My body asked me for something and I gave it what it wanted. And it felt damn good. It felt like a victory. We are humans in need of and deserving of food. So the next time you’re questioning whether or not you deserve dessert, just eat the fucking ice cream.