Cooking

So, here it is the middle of the week and I’m so bored sitting here all day. I decided to cook for my husband, since he hasn’t really eaten anything home-cooked. I felt bad for him and felt worse for me. Cooking for him was very therapeutic for me. It kept me from going insane from not eating. And, I didn’t just make him any old thing. No, I had to make gourmet meals, like Chicken Cacciatore, Lasagna, and Potato and Egg Fritatta. It was enough to just chop vegetables, beat eggs, and make sauce. I couldn’t eat it, but I can handle the food and create these masterpieces for someone else to enjoy. And, he did.

I couldn’t enjoy it, so why punish him? Looking back now, I should have poisoned the prick. I’ll get to that later. Cooking for someone other then myself gave me back some power, so to speak. I felt back in control again. Control over my food and what I do with it. Sounds weird, right? Even though I couldn’t eat that kind of food, no one can stop me from smelling it, touching it, preparing it. It was almost like I was being defiant while cooking. This band is not going to keep ME from food! I will not let it dictate what I do with my food. I had waged a war against food, daring it to cross me.

I must admit. I have been tasting as I am preparing. How else would I know if its seasoned properly? But, it wasn’t the same as eating it. So, no matter how I cooked food, smelled food, touched food, or prepared food, it was winning this war. It was still controlling me and it pissed me off.