In a bowl of human breast milk ice cream.

I can’t explain where I’ve been, word-wise, this past month. Words weren’t coming in (nothing I read, nothing I heard, said “Talk about me!”) and thus, no words came out.

Except a lot of analyst-related words. Phrases like “target compensation,” and “threshold payment” and “comparatio.” I had lots and lots of those words.

Until today, when I saw this article. If you’re link-phobic, know that a restaurant in England is selling ice cream made from human breast milk.

The article made me want to write, but paradoxically, I’m speechless. The only word that pops into my head is, “Why?”

As in, “Why does this sound like a perfectly awful idea?” I mean, breastfeeding = good thing to do. (And no, this is not going to turn into a screed about how “everyone should be breastfeeding and if you didn’t breastfeed that kid until he was twelve you’re an awful mother and I don’t care if you had a double mastectomy prior to getting pregnant, because even so you were a good mother you would have found a way.” I quit breastfeeding a baby because she looked too much like Ernest Borgnine, so you’ll get no judgements here.)

And I enjoy many dairy products that came straight from a cow who was, even more paradoxically, being denied the opportunity to breastfeed her own calf so I could have some yogurt. And I don’t get grossed out by *that.* I just stir in some blueberries.

Then there’s the “Why would anyone pay $22.54 (at today’s exchange rate) for a scoop or two of ice cream of ANY flavor?” quickly followed by the “WHO would do that?”

I didn’t think there was anything you could do to ice cream to turn me off it, but it appears that I was wrong.

© E.S. Evans 2011