I have spent several days of my life ruining plenty of dinners. Overcooked pasta, under cooked rice, burnt pizzas, burned grilled cheese, burned meats, and the list goes on. In fact, most of my “fancy” meals end up inedible.
List of things I rock at:
- Chicken Strips
- Lasagna
- Sandwiches
- Eggs ( Sometimes Overcooked)
- Cereal
Pretty much that is it. My boyfriend mostly eats what I put in front of him. The praise for women who can cook always made me feel insecure. I felt useless as a woman. I felt worthless as a caregiver.
Cooking was never in the forefront of my life. I always studied and was usually at practice. After college, I studied for my master’s degree and was a coach ( usually at practice) so still the cooking gene skipped me. My brother and I basically cook the same way.
Today, I ruined dinner. I tried making stew from scratch instead of from the tiny little packets and it was an epic fail. EPIC fail, y’all. I hung my head in despair while my better half tried to cheer me up. It didn’t work.
The reason is that we put sooo much pressure on ourselves as women. There is so much pressure to be perfect. I even constantly doubt my Instagram feed but seriously my house is not glamorous, my job is not glamorous, and I am not glamorous. In fact, I prefer workout clothes to actual clothes. Right now, I am in grey leggings ( Wal-Mart brand, just keeping it real) and a really old Batman sweater.
I could take the artsy shots because god knows they are all in my phone. But, this is me. I burn dinners, read the classics, love pretty pictures, and love deadlifts. I am an ordinary woman living to me what is an extraordinary life .
I eventually got over my little mood swing. I am just me.
Burned food and all.
Tejana Made 
Have you ever put the pan of shame ( burnt on sticky black goo mess) outside while you tried something else or got the cereal bowls out?
I have.
Fearless.