I still remember that day in English 10 Honors when Caren marched triumphantly ito the classroom and announced that she had done what we had always assumed to be the unthinkable: she had beaten her mother in an argument. And though her revelation brought hope to many of us in class that day, I knew very well then, at the tender age of sixteen with my future clear ahead of me, that I would never achieve what Caren had done. Just like being president of the United States of America, and being tall, beating my mother in an argument was just one more item I was bound from according to natural laws, no matter how much I wanted it. And boy, did I want it last night.
Earlier yesterday, I had oatmeal for breakfast because there was no bread in the house and, since all the RAs at work are eating oatmeal nowaday, it seemed like the fashionable thing to do. But, as it always happens, I got bored with my oatmeal. I left the house with half a bowl of uneaten oatmeal. Usually, when I go home in the evening, whatever uneaten breakfast I had in the morning would disappear magically, thrown out or consumed by my mother or fed to elves and fairies. I don't know what happens but I don't question it. Yesterday, however, my half bowl of oatmeal was still there. Hidden under my dinner rice.
(As we started eating our dinner…)
Mother: By the way, your oatmeal is underneath your rice.
Moi: Why would you do that? I can't eat this with my dinner.
Mother: But you didn't finish your breakfast. Besides, rice is starch, oatmeal is starch. What's the difference?
Moi: My oatmeal is sweet (and cold). That won't go with the rest of dinner.
Mother: When the rice is broken down in your stomach, it becomes sugars, too. They're all the same things.
Earlier yesterday, I had oatmeal for breakfast because there was no bread in the house and, since all the RAs at work are eating oatmeal nowaday, it seemed like the fashionable thing to do. But, as it always happens, I got bored with my oatmeal. I left the house with half a bowl of uneaten oatmeal. Usually, when I go home in the evening, whatever uneaten breakfast I had in the morning would disappear magically, thrown out or consumed by my mother or fed to elves and fairies. I don't know what happens but I don't question it. Yesterday, however, my half bowl of oatmeal was still there. Hidden under my dinner rice.
(As we started eating our dinner…)
Mother: By the way, your oatmeal is underneath your rice.
Moi: Why would you do that? I can't eat this with my dinner.
Mother: But you didn't finish your breakfast. Besides, rice is starch, oatmeal is starch. What's the difference?
Moi: My oatmeal is sweet (and cold). That won't go with the rest of dinner.
Mother: When the rice is broken down in your stomach, it becomes sugars, too. They're all the same things.
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