The other day, something happened to me that was just so funny I have to share it with you. There's a very nice girl who works behind the counter of the bakery - let's call her "Jolene". So Jolene is still in high school and reminds me of the women in my husband's family because she could easily fit in my pocket. She's also very handy to have around because she speaks Spanish fluently, and she will readily translate for Santiago and myself when we're having one of our "I don't understand you!" fits.
So yes, I'm standing at the prep table when all of the sudden Jolene comes running up to me and yells, "Brooke! I hate being a teenage girl!!" I was a little caught off guard, so I very warily said, "Is this a Judy Blume moment? Because I didn't come prepared for that today..." She brushed it off and pointed emphatically at her face and said, "Look!! Look at this! That wasn't there this morning!" And there, near her chin were the beginnings of an only slightly noticeable pimple. At this point I had to chuckle, meanwhile she's whining and looking awkwardly to the side, claiming that she can see it if she looks down, that's how big it is. I sighed and told her it was barely noticeable, she didn't agree and said something along the lines of, "It's not fair - you have great skin!" So I told her, "Yeah, but I'm 29, when you're 29 I'm sure your skin will be fine too. Having someone run up to me claiming to hate being a teenage girl was definitely my hilarious moment of the week, I can't remember anyone ever saying that to me, and I used to be a camp counselor for 20 14-15 year old girls *shudders*.
Chef Katie always used to brag about the "guns" she had when she was working at restaurants and folding, punching & molding bread doughs daily, and I definitely see what she means. I don't have great arms like my mom or my sister, but I can definitely feel myself getting stronger with all the whisking, heaving lifting, etc. Oh the whisking...that's one of my major issues. I'm trying to teach myself to be ambidextrous so that my right arm doesn't get worn out (that's what she said), but whenever I try to whisk with my left arm, it just flails around, as if to say, "Seriously Brooke? I wasn't made to work this way. Let's dispense with any feelings to the contrary right now..." I'm just worried that I'm going to wind up with one crazy arm and look like this:
Not that I think I'm as attractive as Bruce Campbell, but I do not fancy having a machine gun as an arm. Or being chased by skeleton armies...I don't think it would be helpful in my chosen field. Just a thought.
No comments:
Post a Comment