They say, “Those Who Can’t Do, Teach.” When it comes to cooking my mom does neither.
(Yeah, I know I sound harsh, but have you seen the review my mom gave the restaurant I owned a couple years back? Eventually I had to shut down — her crummy critique didn’t help.)
Little did I know that after my first taste of rice cereal all my culinary experiences would be downhill from there. And lately, since her metabolism conked out she finally realized after 40 years that she can’t eat her weight in ice cream or snarf multiple bowls of cereal after 10PM.
Reality’s a cellulite-covered bitch.
Sometimes she even tries to blame me for her drooping stomach flab. Sure, in utero I might’ve kicked her abdominal walls a tad … hell, I was only trying to smack the umpteenth donut out of her mouth.
Anyway, now she’s trying this “clean food” diet. And now it’s effecting me. Suddenly all my macaroni and cheese dishes have morphed into quinoa. Fat-free Quinoa, if you haven’t seen it looks like translucent amoeba writhing around on your plate. Oh yeah, and it tastes like shit. And to add insult to unappetizing injury my desserts are now plain yogurt and fresh fruit. What a freakin’ rip.
Thank GAWD my mom’s parents haven’t jumped on the tasteless food bandwagon. When I head over to the grandparents for a sleepover I’m guaranteed at LEAST 1,000 grams of sugar a day. Easy.