Posted by Hedonistics Anonymous :: 8:09 pm ::
When my sister and I were younger, our parents didn't offer us the luxury of picking and choosing our food. We had to eat whatever was on the table, and we always had to finish our food no matter what. We were forbidden to eat sweets and junk food. If I wanted snacks, my father would buy raisins and pretzels for me. Or fruits. Hell, I was 6yo when I was allowed for the first time to have a whole ice-cream wafer to myself - only because my father felt somewhat guilty for keeping me waiting at the playground while he went to play squash.
Today, my eating habits have somewhat mutated.
Some food I used to love such as pickled lettuce (choy sum)
and hot cereal I absolutely do not take anymore. The smell of pickled lettuce makes me gag.
Some food I used to hate such as century eggs and mildly spicy food I absolutely can't get enough of them now.
When I was younger, I used to hate bittergourd. Sometimes I would quietly dispose of an entire bowl of bittergourd soup into the drain. When I finally moved out of the house to work overseas, I was thinking, "Yay! Freedom to do whatever I want! Freedom to eat whatever I want!"
And then whenever I do a rice takeaway, I always pick bittergourd as one of the side-dishes.
"I hate bittergourd," I announced flatly to my lunchmate.
"Then why do you still eat it?" she asked, puzzled.
"Because I was forced to eat it when I was younger. And I hated it."
"Then why do you still eat it?"
"Because sometimes when you hate something too much for a long time, it grows on you. Like a curse that you can't break. It's like, I hate bittergourd but I'm still compelled to eat it."
But you'll never catch me eating the following:
1. Lady's finger/Okra
3. Pork with visible fatty parts
6. Onion chunks
7. Deep fried chicken butt (unless it's from the famous lok-lok place)
8. Olives. I HATE OLIVES.
9. Chicken innards - liver, gizzard etc.
10. Vegetables used for garnishing - parsley, shallots, leeks, spring onions etc.Thongs
and I have a somewhat symbiotic relationship when we go to KFC because she'll consume all my fried chicken skin, soft bones, and cartilage.
"Womansie, you want the skin?" I would ask.
"OOOOOOO YUMMY!!!! I WANT!!!!" *chomp chomp*
"Womansie, I know you like the white bone. Here, have it."
"OMG THIS IS LIKE THE BEST PART OF THE CHICKEN, OKAY!!!!" *chomp chomp*
"Womansie, you eat the ends of the drumstick or not? I can't stand the cartilage part... it's like eating fat."
"EAAAAAAAAT!!!! You put it aside first... I'm not done with my white bone yet." *chomp chomp*
"Womansie, the waitresses must be thinking that we're such carnivores. Bones also we eat!"
"WHO CARES?!?! TELL THEM TO GO FUCK THEMSELVES!!!!" *chomp chomp**Laughs*
In reply to my comments
in her blog, my beloved bitchcousin
wrote this:"but hey, you sound like you're in the throes of early marriage these days. *laughs* my mum is under the false impression that you might already be engaged. WUAHAHA!"
No wonder my angpow collection took a serious plunge this year.
Next time I go visiting during Chinese New Year, I shall not bring a boyfriend. I think that was my main mistake - bringing Kel along to visit my relatives. If only I knew.
It's not so much about the decline in angpows collected, although it did irritate me abit. It was the fact that we actually broke up AFTER he met practically ALL my relatives.
I absolutely HATE having to clarify to busybody relatives about the how, why, when, who etc details. Technically, it really IS none of their business. If I weren't that well brought up, a simple "Mind your own fucking business, okay?" would have sufficed but then again, I'm polite enough to utter a vague, "I don't know... It just happened..." when queried.
That's why I'm not entirely comfortable bringing bfs home to show my parents. Nor am I comfortable enough to meet his parents either. Come to think of it, I've never met any of my ex-bfs' parents either. Not that I particularly want to, because I'm soooo not daughter-in-law material, unlike Thongs
If I had a maid of my own, I'll send her to Thongs for basic training.
Eh, wait. Not "if"... it should be "WHEN
I get a maid of my own..."
There's no way I'm going to ever learn how to do housework. Or ironing. Or expert cooking. Or sewing. Ever.
The thought of myself holding a broom makes me sick. Gah.
Posted by Hedonistics Anonymous :: 12:17 am ::