Thursday, August 23, 2012
My Hate/Hate Relationship with Cooking
I have a bad relationship with cooking. I don't like it and it don't like me (I know, incorrect grammar). Happily, I was able to avoid it most of my life. Growing up I never had to take a turn making dinner which meant, being the egocentric teenager that I was, that I never offered to make to dinner, which meant I didn't know a thing about cooking.
Then, when I moved out of state to go to college I had to live in the freshmen dorms and therefore eat at the cafeteria. Which was awesome. I gained 10 pounds.
After my freshmen year I moved to another state to do an internship. Luckily my older sister lived with me, and being the mothering type that she is, she usually made me dinner. The few times she had to work at night I made my own dinner which consisted of throwing a piece of chicken on the George Foreman and making an entire box of chocolate pudding - and eating the entire box of chocolate pudding. No joke. I kept on the 10 pounds.
I moved back home to finish my undergraduate degree which meant my mom made my dinners again. Yay!
Then I moved out my first year of graduate school. No money + no cooking skills = gross dinners. I lost the 10 pounds.
And then I got married. My poor husband had to endure two years of me learning to cook. This was a skill that did not come naturally to me. Therefore, we ate out a lot. I gained 10 pounds.
Fast forward to today. After 6 years of marriage I can finally say I know how to cook (sort of). But I don't like it. And it don't like me.