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Day 388: The Food Critic

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Wednesday, January 19, 2011

The food critic is sharing my air and space yet again. [sigh]

Why can't I win the lottery already?

I officially wrote her off when I asked her for the umpteenth time to stop critiquing my lunch - and she said, "Oh, get over yourself." [She is so lucky I was not PMS-ing on that day. I'm just sayin'.]

The food critic loves to regale me of stories of how she goes to a farm where elves and fairies fill her Easter basket with organic vegetables picked directly from Mother Nature's tuckus. Then, she spends the night concocting the perfect salad - blah blah blah snore.

And she has tons of food rules - ie, must be organic, must not touch plastic or use a microwave, etc...

I am not saying she's wrong.

I am just saying - I don't care.

I eat more vegetables now. Because I like vegetables now. It is simple. I like simple.

Simple is easy to remember.

Further, as a free-thinker

I just don't get people who feel it is their right to force value systems on other adults they did not push from their vajayjay [I already have an unbearable parental unit whom I avoid for sanity's sake and pimple-free skin.]

There is a difference between constructive criticism and being arrogant and rude.

Besides, I have my own rules kinda.

Last year, I ate whatever I wanted - just smaller portions [365 days of baby steps and no pressure - also, known as the Crabcake Rule - of which I ate many last summer.]

This has led to less-yummy rules this year where I use the magic flame box [for more than making coffee.]

And a magical kitchen place where all meals must be quick - no more than 5 steps and/or minutes [or I get bored.]

And they must be simple [because complex is hard.]

And they must be good [to me - but I don't require much - see above.]

Just for the record, I don't really talk about food 'cause that is very individual [and I am not an expert on anything - but me.] The following is just for story-tellin' purposes...

For breakfast I have bulgar [2 steps - put in bowl, put in microwave.]

For second breakfast [yes, I made that up - making it a totally real thing] - I have the rest of my bulgar. I try to break breakfast into 2 meals. I eat half before work and the other half after arrival - and chatting with 50 people.]

The in-betweens are just 1 step each - greek yogurt [just open], almonds [put in mouth], apple [bite down hard], etc.

But here is what sent the food critic into a tizzy. Dinner.

I purchased pre-cut butternut squash [to bake] and fresh vegetables in a plastic bag [to stir fry.]

Insert shock and pregnant pause now.

So I wait and smile [like forever. It was mischievously fun, but really - what in the name of Target gift cards and all things sacred is your sanctimonious grievance now?!]

Finally, she says authoritatively, "You can cut them yourself, you know?" [Yes, right after I churn my butter and tell time using the sun.]

Honestly, I have tried cutting squash. I think it requires an axe because I almost lost a finger once [and that is just way too stressful.]

"With my hands? Um.. I don't think so," I chirp jokingly. This annoys her more and delights me [double score - like Scrabble.]

The love affair with her own voice, in conjunction with, her desire to one-up me forces her to manage this retort: "I could always come over and cut them forrrrrrrrrr you." [As if...] It felt like it took her 30 seconds to say the word "for." [Bored with you now.]

"M'kay," I smile - "you'll need to wash the dishes first."

[Commence pretending to do very important things - like looking for the perfect ottoman to go with my new couch.]

Embracing vegetables is a victory in my world [Surely, you saw the parade?] - as long as someone else washes and cuts them [like the supermarket fairies - because that is entirely too much work for me to sustain interest.]

But that is what the journey is all about for me.

Learning who I am.

Then being who I am.

So I can win.

Even if I have to make my own rules.
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