After my last post complaining about the terrible food smells from someone else’s cooking I am deeply ashamed to say my food last night was awful. At first it didn’t smell so bad, just a bit ripe, but it remained until the spices were added and tasted a little rancid. I am amazed we didn’t get ill from it. My stomach has superhero levels of indestructibility – its only nemesis is milk.
Generally I don’t have to much to be ashamed of or embarrassed by. I was a little embarrassed when reading Anais Nin on the train. I was a little embarrassed by the sound of the vibrator so we put the TV on. I realised I would be embarrassed wearing a bikini in front of my mum, but I checked and I don’t have to do that. I find cooking for people intimidating.
I think I must be losing my mind – for an entire 45 seconds I considered moving to Milton Keynes.