Farm Shops Lead To Obesity
So, in my most recent attempt to be a healthier version of myself, I
went with my sister and our retrospective boyfriends to a very quaint farm
shop with a pick your own fruit and veg option. The day started out pretty much
as any other, I did the 'do I need a coat’ dance with Aleksi my
boyfriend. For those unfamiliar with this simple routine; often danced
before a wedding or Christening, it’s basically where I know he hasn't been
outside that day either but I lull myself into a false sense of security and
temporarily lose all sight of reality, pretending he has magical powers and he
will know what the temperature and weather will be like upon our arrival at the
farm shop despite the fact that it is an hour and a half away. Aleksi
said I should bring a coat, I didn't bring a coat.
It was a little bit chilly on the car ride there, that should have been my first indication, it wasn't. It was so breezy when we arrived and got out of the car that my top blew halfway up. That should have been my second indication, it wasn't. All four of us walked into the farm shop, my sister spoke to the lady behind the counter who explained to us what we could pick at this time of year and gave us baskets. We all ventured outside very excited to go and pick our fruit and veg. My sister's Leonard from The Big Bang Theory-esque, gynaecologist boyfriend pulled out a four-inch pen knife from his pocket, and then handed a slightly smaller one to my boyfriend. I don't even remember how many indications we’re up to now. It was only at that moment, having walked a few minutes from the farm shop itself and looking at the aisles and aisles of vegetables, that I realised I should have worn a coat.
I feel that it's important for me to share with you that I am one of these people that would be sweating in December wearing a bikini. I'm one of those slightly chubby people that had to come to terms with my bingo wings because I literally can't wear a cardigan ever. I've accepted my fate of waking up every single morning and the back of my neck and hair being wet, I've also come to terms with the fact that I'm not the type of person that has the energy to wash my hair every single day first thing in the morning. Swings and roundabouts.
Now on this particular day somewhere near the end of the 29th year of my life I felt a little chill. I went from Audrey Hepburn to the Trunchbull from Matilda in about 30 seconds. I've never walked that fast back up hill in my life. On that day Aleksi I went to a farm shop an hour and a half away from where we live to pick some fruit from inside of the farm shop. We didn't actually get very much. However they did have a greenhouse full of pumpkins that they'd had to pick due to the time of year. I have never been to a pick your own pumpkin farm and it was very exciting to see so many orange round balls in a row. I would like to say we picked out two Pumpkins, except for that's not true. I picked out two Pumpkins, Aleksi was too busy gesturing with a rather large and phallic butternut squash. We got one orange pumpkin and one white pumpkin.
When we got home and I had once again returned to normal temperature, the centre of the Earth. I prepared to make my first ever pumpkin soup just to prove how hygge life I am. As I have never bought a white pumpkin before in my life I couldn't wait to slice into him and see what was inside. It was a weird green to yellow colour and when I licked it, it tasted disgusting, like avocados. White pumpkin had to go in the bin. Next, I chopped up the orange pumpkin into little pieces and popped it into my soup maker followed by chopped up pieces of a less phallic shaped butternut squash and a few carrots. 21 minutes later when my soup machine had finished, I went on to eat the blandest soup I have ever tasted in my life. The other half of the butternut squash is still in my fridge, I need to throw that away. Because of this I ended up eating two baguette loaves with it, I haven't weighed myself because I can't afford scales right now but I'm pretty sure the results are what ends in a nasty cycle of always being hot.
To sum up farm shops with the option of picking your own fruit and veg lead to obesity.
Freja
It was a little bit chilly on the car ride there, that should have been my first indication, it wasn't. It was so breezy when we arrived and got out of the car that my top blew halfway up. That should have been my second indication, it wasn't. All four of us walked into the farm shop, my sister spoke to the lady behind the counter who explained to us what we could pick at this time of year and gave us baskets. We all ventured outside very excited to go and pick our fruit and veg. My sister's Leonard from The Big Bang Theory-esque, gynaecologist boyfriend pulled out a four-inch pen knife from his pocket, and then handed a slightly smaller one to my boyfriend. I don't even remember how many indications we’re up to now. It was only at that moment, having walked a few minutes from the farm shop itself and looking at the aisles and aisles of vegetables, that I realised I should have worn a coat.
I feel that it's important for me to share with you that I am one of these people that would be sweating in December wearing a bikini. I'm one of those slightly chubby people that had to come to terms with my bingo wings because I literally can't wear a cardigan ever. I've accepted my fate of waking up every single morning and the back of my neck and hair being wet, I've also come to terms with the fact that I'm not the type of person that has the energy to wash my hair every single day first thing in the morning. Swings and roundabouts.
Now on this particular day somewhere near the end of the 29th year of my life I felt a little chill. I went from Audrey Hepburn to the Trunchbull from Matilda in about 30 seconds. I've never walked that fast back up hill in my life. On that day Aleksi I went to a farm shop an hour and a half away from where we live to pick some fruit from inside of the farm shop. We didn't actually get very much. However they did have a greenhouse full of pumpkins that they'd had to pick due to the time of year. I have never been to a pick your own pumpkin farm and it was very exciting to see so many orange round balls in a row. I would like to say we picked out two Pumpkins, except for that's not true. I picked out two Pumpkins, Aleksi was too busy gesturing with a rather large and phallic butternut squash. We got one orange pumpkin and one white pumpkin.
When we got home and I had once again returned to normal temperature, the centre of the Earth. I prepared to make my first ever pumpkin soup just to prove how hygge life I am. As I have never bought a white pumpkin before in my life I couldn't wait to slice into him and see what was inside. It was a weird green to yellow colour and when I licked it, it tasted disgusting, like avocados. White pumpkin had to go in the bin. Next, I chopped up the orange pumpkin into little pieces and popped it into my soup maker followed by chopped up pieces of a less phallic shaped butternut squash and a few carrots. 21 minutes later when my soup machine had finished, I went on to eat the blandest soup I have ever tasted in my life. The other half of the butternut squash is still in my fridge, I need to throw that away. Because of this I ended up eating two baguette loaves with it, I haven't weighed myself because I can't afford scales right now but I'm pretty sure the results are what ends in a nasty cycle of always being hot.
To sum up farm shops with the option of picking your own fruit and veg lead to obesity.
Freja
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