I’m just going to do it. I’m going to write about food and be done with it.
I’ve been struggling with my diet for a while now. I’m good about the working out, I am not as good about making healthy food choices. Food comforts me.
I’ve been very comforted lately.
Last week was good. I resisted work donuts, which is something I haven’t done in months. I’ve been sticking with fruit and protein shakes in the evening and working very hard toward getting my share of veggies.
The food part is hard for me. I actually LOVE the exercise. And that is VERY nearly true! Even if I don’t love the exercise WHILE I’m exercising, I still do it and I’m consistent. I just have to fix the that other thing. My recent obsession with stuffing my face as often as possible.
Sooo..we are going to exorcise this demon by talking about cookies. I fucking LOVE cookies. I am in the crunchy cookie camp. I know most of you like the soft, chewy cookies. I hate to be the one to break this to you; you’re doing it wrong. NOTHING beats a crunchy, salty, sweet chocolate chip cookie. Or those lacy, thin oatmeal cookies that my mother makes. Holy hell. The woman CANNOT cook, but she can bake the shit out of those cookies.
As much as I LOVE cookies, I am not so good at BAKING cookies. I am a pro at eating them, but not baking them. That does NOT stop me from making an attempt every Christmas season to bake cookies. They usually turn out in such a manner that they could be used as coasters. Or perhaps weapons. But for all that’s holy, you shouldn’t fucking EAT them.
Randy and I were SO poor our first Christmas together. Poor in a scary way. The kids got presents from Goodwill that year. We managed to scrape together enough money to travel from Kansas City, Missouri to his little hometown in the middle of Indiana. It would be my second time around his extended family. In his family, everyone buys for everyone. That meant Christmas presents for Aunts, Uncles and Grandparents as well as all the kids and more immediate family members.
I couldn’t bring Goodwill presents. Fuck that. So, what to do?
My cookie baking ended with the expected results. I think I salvaged about 30% of the total. Not NEARLY enough to fill the festive little tins.
And then a Christmas angel came by our house in the form of Randy’s ex-wife. She brought a HUGE box of homemade cookies. There was a wide variety and they were beautifully decorated. It was truly a Christmas miracle.
What I did next? Well, please remember that I was broke and desperate. So, what I did was attempt to pass another woman’s cookies off as my own.
I lined the bottom of the Christmas tins with my shitty cookies and piled her festive ones on top. Each tin got it’s own gingerbread man. I was so proud of our gift. Christmas was saved.
We packed the car and took off for the holidays. On Christmas morning, the family opened their gifts. They ooh’d and ahh’d over the cookies. I did my best to look modest.
I was in no way prepared for what happened next.
I think it was Randy’s grandmother who announced that Randy’s ex had sent presents for everyone. She distributed the gifts and I felt the first small flutters of anxiety.
Surely she didn’t send cookies.
Holy fuck, PLEASE tell me that she didn’t send cookies.
She sent cookies.
They were very obviously the same cookies that I had just passed off as my own.
I sat in the corner and frantically whispered to Randy what was happening. I begged for him to take me away, I HAD to get out of the house rather than endure the shame of my cookie thievery. I think he MIGHT have done what I asked, but he was laughing WAY too hard to safely drive a car.
To his family’s credit, not a single person called me out on my spurious gifts. At least not then. 16 years later? I take some shit for that first Christmas. But I’m a big girl, I can take it. And really, I kind of have to. I was just flat out busted.
Okay, I actually do feel a little better now. I kind of want a cookie, but that’s normal.
Surely I am not the only one out there with an embarrassing food story. Don’t you have at least ONE you can tell me about?