I've got a confession that might surprise you:
I hate cooking.
And I mean serious deep-down, nasty, don't-wanna-do-it hate. This never ceases to surprise people, as there's a general assumption that creative girls love whipping up a feast in the kitchen. Not this girl.
When I dropped sixty-five pounds, I largely attributed it to keeping my cupboards barebones. Without getting too emotionally hefty today, its not fresh news around here that I've struggled with mental health issues, like weight obsession and an eating disorder. Having full cupboards always feels scary + out of control to me. But last year I worked extensively with a therapist and dietitian to better control or at least quiet those issues. They'll always be there, but they're much quieter now.
That's been my biggest hurdle in cooking--just that scary emotional barrier. But, on a lighter note...the mess. The dishes. And I just have no clue what I'm doing with a whisk in my hand! All this means I've lived off a diet of oatmeal, frozen meals and take out (in equal portions) for the past few years.
But I'm to the point where I want to learn. Gabe is an incredible cook who once made Thanksgiving for 40 guests in Japan. That's what I'm up against here. He loves cooking, never complains about being the chef our relationship. But I want to be a better teammate...which means being a bit more comfortable behind the stove.
Last night I rustled up a stack of old Real Simple magazines, snipped some promising recipes and made my shopping list. Tonight's the night I force myself to begin experimenting in the kitchen.
But first...off to purchase a cute apron. That's of the utmost importance, yes? :)