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Saturday, June 8, 2013

Wife Fail- Level: Kitchen

Sometimes, I think Jon just married me because I had a nice ass  am totally hilarious. 
Let's be honest here, I'm not wife material.
I was always flighty in relationships/ had severe commitment issues.
I'm slightly majorly dysfunctional.
I do all sorts of things Jon hates, such as:
liking cats
crying because of my love for cats, etc. 
ALSO, house chores are like my kryptonite- I find myself weak in the presence of dishes, faint at the thought of laundry, pallid at the contemplation of bathroom scrubbing.
But the biggest shortcoming of all, is my performance in the kitchen. 

I mean, I am not TOTALLY inept; but nearly.... 
I can follow a recipe just fine; you know, because I'm was a science major a lab book was nothing more than a chemical cookbook so I can follow directions. Yet, I can nullify an acid far easier than making an omelet. Seriously, I lack the woman's touch. My food.... its ugly. It is so hideous, that I often would hide what I made and pretend I had been lazy all day because it was a better alternative than telling Jon what a failure I was. My food, it was edible; it's just the fact it looked like it was having a molecular meltdown and the consistency was normally wrong. Here is my issue, I never learned how to be a girl. I was still deep in the throws of tomboy-hood in my late teenage years when I should have become refined. 
Instead of baking bread, I was out throwing hay bales and milking cows. I don't even think I learned how to brush my hair til I was 16. Okay, okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration. However, I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the only hairstyle I am proficient in creating myself is something I like to call the "pony tail;" you may have heard of it. 
Anyways, by the time Jon and I were engaged to be married, I had only made Jon one meal... EVER. You better believe it was one incredible meal, but my lack of experience in the kitchen made everything a daunting task. Cookbooks gave me anxiety because they were so overwhelming; yes they had step by step instructions. The problem arose when I had no idea how to preform the "basic step." I mean, my single life revolved around pb&j's, ramen, and pizza. Suddenly, I found myself in the middle of wifery and my humor was not going to feed us. Luckily, for the next year, Jon was able to feed us while I learned the basics of cooking.
The above is that time I tried to make pumpkin cookies and they just kind of spread out and formed a thin breadlike texture. This was the second batch... the first bath was so bad I didn't even take a picture. I ate what I could, but each of those cookies was larger than a hand so the majority got unceremoniously thrown away before Jon got home. Unfortunately, this secret failures are a common occurrence. Last week Jon showed me how to make pancakes. Am I ashamed? you betcha. However, I think some of you may be able to relate to me. Putting me in the kitchen is like putting a four year old in charge of a restaurant- it just isn't that great of an idea. I'm learning, one basic at a time.

Unskillfully yours,

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