My parent’s recent obsession is hounding me that I need to learn to cook. My mom thinks that I will either a) use up all of my stipend money eating out all the time or b) starve to death because I won’t know how to cook or c) I’ll get so busy with school, I won’t even eat at all. All three are equally ridiculous (though I can’t deny the higher possibility of option a happening), and if option c really did take place, I won’t need to know how to cook because apparently I won’t eat at all.

The rise of this concern of theirs stems almost entirely from their perception that I do not know how to cook. Now, I don’t claim to know how to cook everything they cook me to eat for dinner, but I very well can cook in order to stay alive. Ryan and I even made plans to have a cooking date once a week, and alternate being the chef. My parents insist on sitting me down and going through step by step some of the stuff they cook me, which really isn’t the stuff I’d want to be cooking anyway when I’m on my own.

Anyway, I promised my mom that I won’t starve to death, that I’ll eat my vegetables, and then within a year, I’ll be a great cook. I don’t think she believed me. She simply said that these 5 years of school in Boston, I shouldn’t neglect learning to cook as one of my major priorities.