• July 28, 2020, 10:21 p.m.
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I’ve seen many people feel proud of this achievement. Two months plus of #self-quarantine / #socialdistancing / #lockdown (depending on where you live) and many people have declared this online:

“I can cook.”

Yay. slow claps

Okay, sorry. I just sounded unreasonably bitter there. I need to stop.

Many people have achieved the ability to cook by themselves. Now, I’m not talking about those who have been cooking for as long as they can remember. I’m also not talking about those who have always loved cooking.

I’m referring to those who didn’t use to cook who have finally become those who do – especially thanks to this Covid-19 pandemic. Not only that, but they’re also so used to cooking now and they even love it.

Another plus point: their cooking improves.

“Then…What About You?”

Who…me??? attempts to hide and fails miserably

It’s been over five years since I moved out of my parents’ house to live on my own. I’m sure plenty of people I know have sort of expected that my cooking skill has somehow improved.
About that? Well…hmm, yeah. Good luck with that. Sorry to disappoint you all.

Somehow, my cooking skill is still stuck in the basic. (Shut up. Don’t judge me. Whatever.) It’s not so bad, but at least it’s still decent. It’s passable.

In short, I’m not going to accidentally poison myself or anyone with my own cooking. God, I hope never again will I do so to myself.

So what? Everyone progresses at a different pace. I know I sound like I’m making excuses here, but I don’t care. I still have to share the communal kitchen with other tenants here where I live. I have to be considerate. I don’t always have the kitchen all to myself.

Maybe one day, but I’m not pushing it. I’m taking it slow and easy. I don’t care if some people still think I won’t be a good wife just because I still can’t cook decent enough meals. They can just shove their opinions down their own throats.

I know I’ll never be a Michelin-star chef or like my two best friends Hazel Eyes and Lord Baker – or even my own brother. (Yep, he cooks better than I do – and I’m not ashamed to say that I’m proud of him for that.) I’m not meant to be any of them.

Most importantly, it’s still going to be the same. When I cook, it’s because I really want to, not because people think I should.


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