Though I wouldn’t say I’m an incredible cook, I do consider myself fairly proficient in the kitchen. However, sometimes I do such stupid things that I wonder whether I was born yesterday. Case in point:
That would be oat bran. The orange thing sticking out of it would be a fetus carrot. See, I have some packets of carrots that really need to be used up, so I decided to do something a little more interesting than just, well, eating them. I dumped oat bran, an egg white, Truvia, cinnamon, and the whole carrots into my mini food chopper. Who does that?! Obviously, no chopping went on at all. I tried adding some liquid, but it didn’t help. I just gave up and dumped the whole mess into the pot. So I wound up with, essentially, oat bran with whole baby carrots. It was incredibly, incredibly strange.
Before I segue into my babbling, here are some things that actually did turn out the way I would have wanted. Then again, most of this didn’t require much cooking beyond opening and closing the oven door.
On Tuesday, I was discussing with one of my co-workers (the cupcake co-worker, coincidentally) my troubles with my foot. (If you are wondering why I am discussing this with a co-worker, of all people — it is because almost everyone in my life lists among their primary interests sitting on my butt.) Photo for clarification purposes:
The red spot is pretty much where it hurt. The blue arrow is pointing to the top eyelet from which I removed the laces, thinking it would help, but it didn’t. My co-worker suggested that I loosen the lower laces (the location of which is marked with the green X), but loop it tightly enough on top so that my ankle isn’t wobbling around. I tried that on Wednesday, but it still hurt a bit. Then on Thursday I had the brilliant idea of kind of flexing my foot while tying the laces, then relaxing it afterward; and I don’t know if it was just time, or if it did the trick, but I was able to run a pain-free mile. It was also a cramp-free mile, because it was pretty slow. I ran a faster mile this morning, which was not cramp-free. This leads me to believe that I am just a natural slowpoke.
And the babbling starts here. This stupid individual made the very ill-advised decision to get on the scale this morning. Obviously, I was not. happy. And that’s putting it mildly. I could ramble about that forever, but it would serve no purpose, so I won’t do that. I just read this book yesterday, and while I do agree with a lot of it, somehow I feel like it just… doesn’t apply to me. Other people should definitely not tell themselves that they are weak / disgusting / out of control / fat / ugly / worthless, because it’s not true. But apparently, I’m a different story. I do feel that way, and I don’t feel like it isn’t true, and I am really struggling to justify eating as much as I do when I clearly shouldn’t be doing that. And on my way home today — when I was really thankful that it’s a pre-holiday weekend, because I had a total anxiety attack and definitely would not have fared well as part of a human sandwich — I had an epiphany.
I don’t hate myself because I hate my weight. I hate my weight because I hate myself.
Semantics, semantics. But it isn’t the same thing. Still, this knowledge does not change the way I feel. Which, at present, will be summed up with this emoticon: 😦
And here’s my second coconut milk concoction:
I used the same kind of Devil’s food cake mix, but I was intending to turn the batter into cookies, so I added a box of chocolate pudding mix along with an egg and the coconut milk (I don’t remember how much). Then I randomly decided to add some peanut butter and chocolate chips. The batter was thick, but it was too “gloopy” to turn into cookies. Instead, I just spread it in the pan, sprinkled more chocolate chips over the top, shoved the whole mess into the oven, and hoped for the best.
Not only was my brother unable to taste the coconut milk, he’s already finished half of the pan. So there.
Oddly, I poured some coconut milk over cereal, and it didn’t taste much like coconut either. I poured out the excess, though. I just can’t bear to drink coconut milk plain. Shudder.
Happy Fourth of July weekend!!
“All men kill the things they hate, too, unless, of course, it kills them first.”