You know when you shed yourself of something that's been weighing on you? When you finally tackle that project, or have that conversation you have been avoiding? Or you finally dump that guy that just sucks - that you shouldn't have dated in the first place? (No, no one's coming to mind......) And then it's done. Over. Outta your life. You can breathe again. Smile. Finally.
That's just how I feel.
I finally broke up with tofu.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
God, it feels good.
My step is lighter, springier. I bounce through the supermarket no longer slowing down when I approach the tofu section and thinking,
"What the #$& do I do with tofu?" "Firm or soft?" "Smoothie or stir-fry?" "Hmm, do I still have that tub of tofu in my fridge that I bought....gosh, was it a month ago now?"
No longer shall I feel guilty about :
- I'm Ms-super-healthy-pants and everyone assumed I loved tofu. When in fact. I hate it.
- Not knowing how to cook it, but everyone assuming I did.
- Following directions on cooking tofu. Yet it never. ever. ever came out close to being edible.
- Using it as a source of non-animal protein. Because there are beans. And nuts. To name a few options.
- Buying it and swearing to myself that THIS was the time I would master tofu. Yet the tub always got pushed to the back of the fridge and forgotten about.
- Draining it. I hate the process of draining tofu. Because no matter what I did, it was always water logged. My piles of book on top of the tofu would inevitably fall over and make a mess. Nor did I care to constantly change the paper towels every, oh, 3 minutes.
- wanting to pronounce it TOE-fu, but inevitably it always sounded like I was saying toe-FU.
Tofu and I have had a love-hate relationship since we first met. And I finally just came to terms with the fact that it's okay for me not to like tofu. It's okay for me to kick tofu out of my kitchen.
It's okay for me to break up with tofu.
So I did.