The Summer Non-Diet

At the beginning of this summer, I was considering turning vegan, or at least vegetarian (I do love breakfast, and eggs are an essential part of that). But now, I think I have turned into a junkie – a junk foodie.

Yesterday’s grocery trip yielded the following items:

• 1 box of frozen chicken wings (ready-to-bake)
• 1.5L of strawberry banana frozen yogurt
• 1.5L of chocolate brownie ice cream
• 8 containers of fat free fiber yogurt
• 3 apples
• 3 bags of chips
• 1 bag of cherry licorice
• 1 box of cereal
• 1kg of pasta

You will notice the blatant lack of vegetables, and only three measly apples to balance out hundreds of servings of sugar, complex carbohydrates, and saturated fat. How am I not a whale yet?

When you live alone, there’s really no one to comment on your diet, and therefore, no one to judge.
Ironically, when I first moved into my apartment, I was so healthy. I cooked my own meals every day (or enough leftovers for the next day) and I made everything from scratch. My fridge was a vibrant mosaic of red peppers and green lettuce and orange oranges. I didn’t want my vegetables to go stale so I went on three grocery trips a week. And I walked to the grocery store.

A couple weeks ago, I returned to University Town after living with my parents for a month, and I found that I had lost my magic in the kitchen! Suddenly, I never felt like cooking, and even when I did, I was a complete clutz. In one night, I set my kitchen on fire twice. First was when I left the popcorn in the microwave too long, and the entire room filled with thick smoke, the fire alarm went off, and I had to call the super to tell him not to alert the fire department. Then, not two hours later, I left a pot of boiling eggs on the stove and they started exploding!
Not a good night for me in the kitchen.

Ever since, I have not cooked. Seriously, not cooked at all, in over two weeks. This is unheard of, considering my reputation as an amateur chef among my family and friends. Instead, I have been ordering deep-fried take-out and heating up frozen chicken wings and digging through tubs of ice cream. What? Ice cream can be a meal.

This is how I get ready for bikini-season. Maybe people will think I’m pregnant and save me a spot on the beach?