Nemesis of Nom

Do you have a food nemesis? 

Something you know that you really shouldn't eat... due to intolerances  or allergies, or just because it's not good for you? Something that you are almost scared to let into your kitchen because you know that you cannot control yourself around it? Something that no matter how many times you tell yourself that you are better that this you still find yourself standing at the counter in your pyjamas at midnight, eating it with a pang of guilt keeping it company in your stomach?

My undeniable weakness is white bread. Soft, doughy, fresh white bread... piled high with sweet, sticky jam or smeared with a little pesto and melted cheese, toasted with a slightly charred edge and smothered with butter or torn from the loaf and used to mop up a savoury gravy. It is one item I have no self control around. I will happily eat slice after slice of bread until the entire pan is gone and only crumbs remain on the breadboard. I will have it plainly buttered for starters, with a savoury topping for mains and persuade myself that spreading it with jam, or nutella can count as dessert. 

I know that it does me no good. I know that processed wheat and gluten are not good for the digestive system. I know that it is full of hidden sugars... and I also know that I don't care. It tastes wonderful, and it makes me happy to get to enjoy it as a treat every now and then. 

What about you? Is there anything out there that you are scared to let into your kitchen? Is there anything that calls out to you when you go grocery shopping?

This Is Not A Request

Okay world... it's time to get something straight here. Christmas tree lights only come in one flavour. I may decide to amend this law if I ever decide to have children who will appreciate epilepsy inducing, multi-coloured strings of nastiness on a tree bedecked in mismatched ornaments and tinsel

... shudder... 

but for now only lights that are small, white and non-twinkling will be permitted. 

Christmas is a time when I finally get my way... fires are lit, candles are twinkling, hot chocolate is required, shopping is compulsory, present wrapping can be OCD, a thousand throws and blankets appear and are draped over the armchairs and sofa. Men don't even complain about it all... much. I can indulge in my loves.

Christmas is pretty, and sophisticated, and matching. I do not want my holidays to be anything other than Christmas card perfect... and Christmas cards rarely depict a family huddled about a glorious eight footer swathed with strands of lights that look like they were pulled out of a Quality Street box. Each strand flashing to it's own little, unrelated, beat.

Get it right people... the world will look much better for it. 

Heartbreaking

Sometimes the most perfect hug can be the loneliest feeling in the world...

Scaredy Cat

What are you irrationally scared of? 

Being scared of things like war, poisonous animals that live near you or acts of nature are pretty valid things to be scared of. Those sort of things can cause major damage and ruin lives. It is never irrational to be scared of anything that has serious potential to harm you. What is irrational is those little things that you can't help but be scared of even though you know that they can't do anything to hurt you. 

I found out this week that two of the guys in the office are terrified of mice. Actually have to leave the room, shaking a little and getting upset kind of scared. And that was just when they heard that there was a dead mouse in a trap in the store room. Neither of the women in the office are afraid of mice I would like to add. 

What I am scared of though is 'things with wings'. If a butterfly or a moth comes into the room I'm in and starts fluttering about I will leave. Daddy Long Legs, small birds, pretty much anything small and fast moving will have me heading for the door. 

I was sharing a room up the country with some friends the weekend before last and one of them nearly fell off the bed laughing when a butterfly appeared into the room and I started ducking and weaving about the room to keep it away from me. Eventually he caught his breath, and the butterfly, and put it outside so that I could finally get some sleep.

Even when I'm outside I hate things with wings. Pigeons creep me out. I hate birds and I really hate that Hitchcock movie with a passion. I remember being over in London for a weekend break with a man friend and having a romantic breakfast of coffee and pastries in the park when we were besieged by a huge flock of pigeons looking for a bite. Terrified and shaking I left the park vowing to never eat outdoors in London again.

How about you? What irrational thing scares you?    

Question

Can you be stood up if it was never a date?

I should explain this a little more before you answer that question. 

Once upon a time there was this boy (there's always a boy in these type of stories) and this boy... well, more a man really... anyway... this man told me that he liked my legs. I was very flattered that someone had noticed all of my hard work in the gym lately. Seriously... aerobics is so much tougher than just slapping on some lycra and shaking your ass to some cheesy 80's music. It is a 60 minute sweat-fest that leaves you with aching thighs and calves, and a whole lot of respect for Jane Fonda. 

So back to the main story here... the man and I began flirting with each other. Just think of it as a grown up, technologically advanced version of the good parts of Dawson's Creek... all witty one liners, big words, and teasing one-up-manship (I know it's not a word) through texts and emails, and lots of spotting each other at events and watching from the other side of the room... all sultry gazes and the like... serious mental foreplay stuff. (For some totally unrelated but entertaining Creek bashing just click here)

The crux of the story though... he's shy... and I'm shy... what a dire combination. So I took the grown up's choice and hid behind technology for a while, hoping that this man friend would grow a pair and ask me out. No such luck though... but plenty more texts, mails and looks. Plenty! Loads of them! Enough to torture a young woman. Enough for her to take matters into her own, slightly shaking hands, and ask this man out... gulp... and he said 'Sure'... cue a little dance about my bedroom and a congratulatory pat on the back for being a modern woman and asking a man out.

So I suggested a time and a place... forgetting that he works on that particular evening... and he let me know that he can't make that night, so I suggest a Sunday evening. No one really works on a Sunday evening. They might call to visit their grandparents, wash the dog, go to mass. Regular Sunday stuff that leaves you with a long evening stretched in front of you and nothing to occupy it, except some bad television. I reckoned I was safe with this suggestion. I reckoned I was a better option than bad television. And his response? 'Probably, I'll let you know'... hmmm. It didn't sound good. Not at all. 

It wasn't. That Sunday evening has come, and gone. I didn't actually get stood up because I never went to meet him. Because he never 'let me know'. In fact I haven't heard from him since that message. Sigh. 

So why the 'Sure'?

Is this classified as being stood up? I'm a little unsure here. I really don't want to be known as 'that woman who asked a guy out and got stood up'. It's hard enough being a grown up these days without the stigma of being 'that' woman. Oh... and I'm really sick of all the magazine articles that tell me that it's so hot for a woman to ask a guy out. That all men secretly want to be approached by a woman. That it's a turn on. That it's strong, and powerful and empowering... bull... it only is if he says yes.

Let this be a warning to all of you single women out there... do not be the bigger person... tease and torture any man that proclaims to like you... until they cannot help themselves and have to ask you out first... use all of your womanly charms and terrorise him... save yourself the confusion... damn the man

Wednesday Wishes

I wish for...

an intimate moment

a gentle touch

the feel of his hands on my skin

a comforting presence

butterflies in my tummy

memories that make me blush

a secret smile

a reason to wear good lingerie

remembered dreams

wicked thoughts

hot nights

stolen kisses

desire

 

reasons to daydream

reasons to wake

A Little Soft And Squidgy

So... they're bringing out a third Ghostbusters movie soon. I heard that on the radio today while everyone was giving out that Bill Murray wasn't really interested in coming back to the franchise.

But as soon as I heard the word 'Ghostbusters' I had only one thing on my mind for the rest of the day...

Marshmallows... soft, sugary, squidgy marshmallows. All sweet and delicious and way too easy to eat. Staypuff marshmallow man, you have a lot to answer for.

Do any movies instantly remind you of food? Like 'Marie Antoinette' and cream cakes, 'Chocolat' and rich handmade truffles, '28 days later' and tinned peaches...

Confessional

I have never eaten avocado

Confessional - A Simple Thought

My mum and I share a simple belief. 

That when a loved one dies they sometimes like to come back and visit on a sunny day, disguised as a butterfly.

If you ever spot me wearing something with a butterfly on it... it's because I want to remember someone special that day.

Confessional

I feel naked if my toenails are bare. I just feel all wrong, not one bit pretty or self confident or happy in myself if there is no varnish on my toes.

Do you ever feel the same about a beauty product?

I Love You Raymy

My pretty friend Raymy is a self confessed toe hater, so today's post is especially for her - to help get over her hate of tootsies, piggys and whatever else you like to call you podiatric digits, cause summer is just around the corner and toes are becoming much more visible every day.

When are your toes at their happiest?

When they have a kitty keeping them warm?

When they get to stretch in the morning?

When they get to come out and play?

When they get to wiggle in the sand?

When they get to be shown off in a beautiful pair of shoes?

When they touch the ground for the first time in the morning?

When they get to play dress up?

When they get to go for a swim?

When they are all cozy?

When they get to jump?

When they get to bask in the sunshine?

When they get to play in the mud?

Do you have any strange hates? Are you another foot-phobe?

Confessional

I feel like I am letting down bloggers everywhere by saying this....

...I have never tasted a macaron.

Confessional

Sometimes I rather male company than female company

Have You Ever...?

...started loving a part of you that you that you didn't love before?

Lets talk legs. I was never the kind of girl to wear shorts, or skirts, or dresses, or anything that might let you even get a look at my legs. I was that kind of person for many, many years. I loved my jeans, my combats, my chinos. I also loved my cleavage, in fact I loved it so much that it was the only part of me that I would ever highlight... EVER

It's not that I didn't like my legs, I just felt that I wasn't the kind of person who would show off her legs. No wait, that's a lie. I hated my legs. They were pale and I was paranoid that I had huge calves from years of playing sports at school. So I never dressed to emphasize them. I hid them away and cursed hot and sunny days and I compensated by wearing my jeans with pretty flip flops and vest tops.

Until one day something just clicked with me. Why did I hide my legs? What was really wrong with them? Were they that ugly? And when I stopped and thought about it I realised that there was nothing wrong with my legs, just my head. I had spent so many years secretly hating one part of my body so much that I couldn't bare to show it. I had grown to loathe something that was literally a part of me. And I realised that this was one of the most ridiculous obsessions of my life.   

So now you can find me sauntering around campus in any number of thigh skimming dresses and skirts. Maybe next summer I will brave shorts. But the only advice I can give you to get over a body hang up is to actually sit down with yourself (not literally, you'll just feel weird) and find out why you dislike your legs, bum, arms... And embrace that body part for a week or two. Show it off, learn to love it, listen to peoples compliments, they usually mean them.

Confessional

Sometimes, just before I head for a shower, I'll put on a full face of make up to see what a new look would look like... and then I wash it all off.

Confessional

source

Yesterday I had to take off my beautiful grey suede booties and put on the pair of slippers that I keep hidden under my desk. They are black with little hot pink skulls all over them.

Shhh...

I Done Good

source

After 9 years of building up the courage I donated my first unit of blood last night.

It took 6 friends, 5 other 'donatees' and 1 to hold my hand, 2 hours and 30 minutes out of my day, an amusing questionnaire, 2 glasses of 7up, a purple snack, a bag of cheese and onion Taytos, 2 plasters and an IBTS employee who thought that I was strange for bringing a friend with me to talk about shoes while they were inserting and removing the needle.

And I thought that I would feel better afterwards. Everyone said that I would get a warm, fuzzy feeling from doing something good, and to think of all the babies, motorcyclists and sick people that I would be helping. But I feel nothing - well not true, my arm feels a little heavy and I have a square bruise on my right arm - but I don't feel like I have done anything extraordinary at all.

Please tell me some of your stories from the first time you donated blood. Did you feel all warm and fuzzy?

Confessional

source

Ok, so I thought that I might have a regular thing for the blog - where I confess to things. Some things may be shameful, some things may not. You will have to tune in to find out.

We'll start things off slow...

Until last Saturday morning I have never - EVER - eaten marmalade. In my 27 years on this earth I have resoundingly refused to eat, touch or think about marmalade. It may have been that as a child I associated it completely with being an adult and enjoying adult-like breakfast foods, like porriage and coffee and kippers on toast, whereas all I wanted was a bowl of Frosties or Ready Brek and some Kulana juice.

So Saturday morning as I had some tea and toast with my dad I reached for the marmalade jar on the kitchen table. I decided that it was time to join the world of adult taste buds. I spread it pretty thinly on my toast and bit in, and do you know what. It wasn't so bad. Now I don't think that I would be getting up in the middle of the night to enjoy some but if marmalade was offered I might not say no the next time.

Althought the whole peel issue still has me thrown.

Are there any foods that you hated as a child that you still won't eat, even though you don't know what they taste like? Why?