I wrote the following mail to my contacts this past weekend.
So. Didja enjoy your Sunday Special breakfast/lunch/dinner today? So did I! But. Not everyone is as blessed as you and I are, you know?
It’s no secret that I live to eat. So I’m going to get right to it. Earlier today, when doing my nigh daily bread thang at one of my fave sites, Upworthy, I watched this vid:
Chorizo Stir Fry with Boiled Potato ‘n Boiled Egg
Hershey’s Chocolate (On the table at 12 o’clock)
This is exactly what my plate looked liked before I tucked in last night. When I looked at this shot up on my PC, I realised it is a very good representation of me.
The corners of the slices of bread cut off
The slices themselves not arranged so that both slices are visible
The traces of gravy around the edges
The mismatched egg halves
The rather sloppy placement of everything.
This is who I am as a person; imperfect, but substantive (rather, I’d like to think of myself as substantive), unconcerned about slapping on the glitter to gloss over the grime beneath.
Similarly, so why should I treat my routine dinner plate any differently just because it could be viewed by people I don’t know?
WYSIWYG with me.
Oh, if you noticed the grease congealed in the Chorizo Stir Fry, brownie points for your eagle eyes! The art/photography flop that I am, I didn’t think of nuking my dinner before I snapped it.