Kudutness

After almost four years, I have succumbed to the unspeakable. But circumstances call for such action and the reflection in the mirror is worrying me.

I walk down the aisle, my bag in tow and body shivering. I am wearing three layers but I am still cold despite being inside away from the winter spite. I scan everything and everyone in my sight, just waiting for the right time.

I used to weigh more. I'm not sure where all the kilos went. My waist has shrunk so much I did not think it was possible. I am skin and bones.

No, I don't have an eating disorder. Rather, I have a cooking disorder. I hate cooking. I can't stand to cook anymore. I'm sick of having to cook because I can't eat Maggi noodles more than once in a fortnight. I'm sick of cooking the same type of food and new simple recipes aren't at all SIMPLE. I never seem to have the ingredient that they want. And when it's so simple that it's too good to be true, it tastes like nothing it's suppose to be! AAARRRGGGGHH.

As a result when there is no food at home, I just don't eat. Yes call me spoilt, fussy and plain stubborn but I'm just so tired of bloody cooking. And the cold is unbearable. Winter is officially my most hated season. Spring come quick please.

I have done the unspeakable. Something I thought I would never do.

I bought four ready-made meals from the supermarket. The kind where you put the whole box of chemically modified food that stays fresh in the box without the need of a freezer into a microwave for two minutes and ting! Walah! You have rice, beef goulash with vegetables in a nice white container. Don't forget the plastic fork that came with the packaging.

I have been reduced to this. Someone please shoot me.