I do not like to cook. So what?

2024 Author: James Gerald | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 14:00

I'm not a feminist. I love men. I am ready to obey them without complaint, on the basis of their own simple argument that they are men and decide for themselves what is best. I am able to be a vest for stingy men's tears, an energy generator, an affectionate kitty and without the slightest effort look faithfully in the eyes without the slightest effort. I can even give up a career if my family happiness requires it. In general, I could claim the title of the ideal wife of all times and peoples, if not for one "but". I hate to cook. I don't like it at all.

I’ll make a reservation right away: “I don’t like it” doesn’t mean I don’t know how. I can, and quite a few dishes. Firstly, my mother has been a very inventive cook all her life, and secondly, my sister is studying at the culinary lyceum. Well, and thirdly, both of them methodically inspire me that a normal woman is obliged to cook food. And not sandwiches with different fillings, but porridge, soup, meat, fish, stewed cabbage, fried potatoes, pancakes, pies, cabbage rolls, salads … and compote. And every day. Three times per day. And every time - a new one. And so all my life. Until death do us part from the stove.

Cooking has become a stumbling block for me. When I pictured family life for myself, a terrible picture arose before my eyes: in the morning I fry eggs in the kitchen, then wash the dishes. In the evening I run home from work, hastily peel potatoes, singe the chicken, cut the carrots and cook dinner. Then I wash the dishes. Then until three in the morning I cook dinner for three days in advance, so that at least tomorrow I can sleep. Then I wash the dishes. But these are still flowers. What if his parents come to visit for Sunday lunch? It will be necessary to prove to them that the son has chosen the most worthy daughter-in-law for them. And if, God forbid, a company gets together or a New Year happens, I will have to turn into a hospitable hostess and re-invent something special at the stove? And then wash the whole horde of dishes. And when the child appears, he will also eat, and every day. And if you consider that I always wanted three children … No, stop, I'll go crazy!

Truly, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach! Reading women's magazines, I constantly come across recipes for various goodies. Famous actresses unanimously say: "I know such secrets of home cooking that my men could not live without my dishes and without me." Or even more categorical: "A woman does not start from bed, but from the kitchen."

I don’t like to cook! Someone doesn’t like to sing or dance, but I don’t like to cook. At the same time, I do not feel disgust at the household, on the contrary: to bring cleanliness and shine in the house is an occupation for which I do not mind spending a day off. And if during cleaning you dress up in something minimal and in this form drive with a cloth on the floor or wipe dust from the upper shelves - your beloved will also really like cleaning. True, it will drag on a little.

In general, I can do everything. But to cook - thank you. An advertising poster with Andriana Sklenarikova spilled like balm on my tormented soul. The top model with record long legs showed off her bust, seductively bulging in a Wonderbra, and underneath all that splendor was the caption: "I can't cook. But what does it matter?" Indeed, does a man think about a joint kitchen, looking at the forms of Andriana? Now, if only such a statement played in real life! And if you put on my already luxurious third size in the same Wonderbra …

Do you remember the bearded anecdote about a student couple who ate only love? One day the husband came home, and the wife sat down with a bare butt on the radiator and cooed: "I'm heating up dinner, dear." However, on one sex, too, you will not last long. Moreover, if the latter is especially successful, the appetite appears downright wolfish. An urgent problem, therefore?

I think my television work played an important role in shaping my dislike for the kitchen. In the mornings I got along with tea, in the afternoon I ate something in the buffet, during the break between filming, or - to be honest - I gnawed cookies and coffee at buffets, and in the evening I only had the strength to fall dead on the bed without flushing makeup. But I liked the work. Colleagues, existing with me in the same regime, gloomily joked that gastritis is a professional disease of journalists and that, on average, our brother lives up to 38 years old - including because of this very gastritis. In addition, I am a rather unpretentious person and can easily eat sandwiches, oatmeal and all kinds of semi-finished products. And when I want homemade food, then I put on an apron and build something serious. But do it every day …

How to be? I heard about a girl who immediately after the wedding (clever, not the day before) announced to the newlywed that she could not and was not going to be able to: wash, iron, wash, clean, sweep and cook. The husband in love ate courageously in cafes and canteens during his honey week. The second week he cooked himself, as best he could. At the beginning of the third, he rebelled and demanded a normal dinner from his wife. She, in response, called him a despot, ready to chain her to the stove, refrigerator and sink in her best years, reminded her of her warning, delicately threatened to divorce and locked herself in the room with tears. The next day, the unfortunate husband knocked on her door with a bouquet of roses and promised not to start talking about food in the future. Since then, their husband has been cooking in their family. She herself began to take an interest in the cooking process only when a microwave oven, an ultra-modern stove and an arsenal of food processors and Teflon utensils appeared in the house. As you can see, in her case, everything worked out just fine. Maybe she wanted this from the very beginning?

So what if you really hate doing linoleum washing, or dusting, or walking the dog, or cooking?

There are three options:

1. Hire a housekeeper.
2. Equip your home with super-powerful appliances that, according to the advertisements, "make cleaning a pleasure." And don't forget about detergents.
3. Share responsibilities with your husband. For example: "On you - daily wipe the corridor and kitchen with a wet rag, on me - to put things in order in the bathroom and in the toilet. You - dishes, me - carpets. You - to cook dinner today, I - tomorrow." So it will be fair. It remains only to convince the man of this. After all, household is not the exclusive prerogative of the wife, but as much a common matter as replenishing a family account or raising a child. And, by the way, real male chefs from the East (wah!) Are sure that a woman shouldn't be allowed near the stove at all: it's too important a job.

As for me, if my beloved and I reach the altar, I will offer him to take over the cooking. Fortunately for me, now only he cooks.