(From November 2007. Although this post has nothing to do with globalization or garments it is one of the most viewed in the history of this blog.)
Where did Mrs. Butterworth’s boobs go?
When I was kid she was much shapelier. Now, she’s as flat as a pancake.
There are only two reasons why they could have disappeared (none of which is that she is old and gravity plays on such things – because Mrs. Butterworth is ageless):
1) Economics – Pinnacle Food Company, which produces Mrs. Butterworth, decided that they could make a greater profit if they flattened her out, thus robbing consumers of two D-cups of her sweet nectar.
2) Prudishness – After decades of children and adult alike fondling the syrup maven, our culture cannot handle inanimate objects with anatomy.
Banished by corporate greed or by our ultra-conservative culture, Mrs. Butterworth’s boobs are gone.
I miss them.
Now when I’m holding Mrs. B upside down, there is no matronly shelf to rest my index finger upon. Instead, my finger slides down her midriff and onto her hands clasped at her waist, as if to console her.
She’s the saint of syrup with her halo of dried mapley goodness just below her cap, but she’s also a woman. A woman robbed of her womanliness.
Shame on Pinnacle Foods. Shame on us all for sitting idly and allowing them to perform a double mastectomy on our momma of maple.