16 April 2002 - 12:11 p.m.

Last night I made Indian food, which turned out even better than I expected, seeing as how I'm, you know, white. But the thing I screwed up?

Wait for it.

The rice. I just could not get the rice to cook properly. Maybe I'm not as white as I thought.

I miss cooking well. It's just so time-consuming, and so much less enjoyable when I have a time consuming science assignment or 4 hanging over my po little head. I also don't really have enough space in which to entertain other people. At least in my old, ghetto place I could have dinner parties and desset buffets and the like. For my 20th birthday, Dr. Sanderson and his then-girlfriend got me this little pink cookbook called Sweets for the Sweet, which was a collection of dessert recipes. Aww.

So I am hoping that, at some point, I'll get to be a stay-at-home whatever, and make lots of rad meals. I wouldn't want this to last forever, just long enough to for a few perfect flans. Or tasty low-fat recipes, as I'm showing off my midriff today, and there's a lot more there than there was at this time last year. Should I blame X-treme Doritos or just plain old age? Whatever. I don't think I could ever not celebrate eating, so maybe, since I would be celebrating in the first place, I could just celebrate my ever-increasing rotundity.

That's the right attitude, I think. Although, radical self-acceptance is so much easier when, in your natural state, you look like an ad for Maidenforms or girdles, and anyone who says otherwise is lying. Maybe my impending grad student poverty will whittle me back down to a state of wasp-waisted unhealth. And if not, more bacon for me.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: