Confession

Bless me, friends, for I have sinned...it has been...ok, mostly I don't do confession. Largely because I'm not Catholic. And for reasons. But I still have to hang my head and admit the truth.

I don't cook.

I know, right?

I've been working as a professional chef for about 6 years, give or take. I don't cook for myself. My theory is that I spend my whole day cooking for strangers. When I come home, the kitchen is the last place I want to be. The only exception is when my hubby comes home for a bit and then I will trouble myself to feed him something, though I rarely eat myself.

"Shoemaker's wives go barefoot, doctor's wives die young and chef's husbands go hungry..."

That was the case until recently. I lost my job. I was laid off. I am, as of now, no longer a working chef. I'm trying not to freak out. Much. Since I am trying to point my career in a different direction, and no longer seeking food service employment, I am hoping that I will begin to enjoy cooking again.

Here's the second confession.

I have no idea how to feed myself.

I mean, I know how to cook. I know how to shop. But planning meals, and organizing a shopping trip so that I not only have something to cook when I'm hungry but don't go broke doing it?

Yeah...I may have been absent that year.

But there's no time like the present to learn. And if busy moms with 2 kids and jobs manage to do it, surely one unemployed college graduate can manage to put together some kind of plan. It seems like the best way of making sure that the weight I have lost doesn't come back to haunt me. So I'm going to hit the internets and crack on with it. Because proper prior planning prevents piss poor performance.

I am absolved.