One of the hardest things about adulting is having to cook dinner. Every. Single. Day.
Actually, the cooking part is ok. It’s more the emotional labour of deciding what to eat and ensuring I have all the ingredients.
I’m a functional eater. And when I say this, I mean that I eat more for my nutritional and energy needs than for enjoyment.
Hmmmm, that doesn’t sound right.
Look, I love my food, but sometimes cooking and eating is just so — I dunno — arduous.
And getting to the end of a busy day to have to cook dinner is one sure way to put a scowl on my face. Well, until recently, that is.
Now, I sing and dance and embrace the cooking process, grateful and privileged to be able to cook.
So what invoked this attitude change?
I listened to a podcast about stress that mentioned the impact of cortisol on food preparation; that’s what changed.
