Case in point: food.
So I’m one of ‘those’ people now. I am, it’s true. I never thought it would happen, not to me. But, I’m only one of ‘those’ people half of the time. Sigh. The story starts in high school when I worked a part time job at McDonald’s (hey, I grew up in a small town, there weren’t a lot of options.) My school ‘lunches’ regularly consisted of a bottle of coke and a bag of either chips or peanut m&m’s from the vending machine, let me tell you it is a miracle beyond miracles that I don’t have type 2 Diabetes right now. From high school, I went on to become a destitute college student, sufficing mostly off of single serve bags of ramen. Even after college, I had zero interest in cooking or health. Until I suddenly did. I suddenly became very interested in cooking and making things from scratch, and then on to caring about where my food came from. It occurred to me while sitting on public transportation this last weekend with a rolled up yoga mat beside me and a reusable bag of my organic meat share from a local CSA, that I’m one of ‘those’ people. (I feel obligated to point out that I still have yet to use the yoga mat or take a yoga class… next week. Next week.) I’m a borderline activist, organic loving, and health-obsessed foodie.
HOWEVER. There’s another side of me that loves butter! I love baking. (I pretend to occasionally make it healthy, but whom are we kidding?) I love Little Caesars Crazy Bread. It’s just not natural. I love fried cheese and onion rings, and oh my heaven, cheese fries. Food. Of. The. Gods. I am obsessed with blogs about baking. I print out recipes incessantly. I made 75 cinnamon rolls before Christmas, and 8 different batches of cookies. (I went through pounds of butter.) And I’ll admit to drooling while watching Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. Deep fried garden gnomes covered in au jus , fries and cheese, then fried again? Yes please!
How do I justify this dichotomy? I don’t. I gave up trying to understand how my brain goes about its day and come to a level of acceptance and embrace the oddness within. The monster in my closet prefers it that way.
Ice cream….
