Last Friday, I woke up and made myself oatmeal. I’m currently going through a phase with Glutenfreeda’s organic gluten free oatmeal, which *also* has flax in it. And I sprinkle some Chia Fresh chia fiber in there just to make me feel like I’m really in Malibu. I’ve never been to California though, so if they don’t eat oatmeal in Malibu because it’s neither green nor liquid, nor both green and liquid, forget I made that statement.
Oatmeal is filling. But nothing is more filling than the satisfaction of local free trade coffee. So I got my shit together, pretended to fix my hair, and ambled over to old Blue State for some brew. Now doesn’t that sound swell?
It did, until I walked in the door and stood in line next to the display case of baked goods. Yes, the display case. Like the Barney’s window at Christmastime. Usually, I eye-fuck every tea bread and croissant in a one-mile radius but never find myself bold enough to commit to making the move. I’ve somehow managed to convince myself that unnecessary calories don’t only cost pants sizes, they also cost real money, so they really aren’t worth it. And by “I’ve somehow convinced myself” I mean “my parents put me on a super tight budget and my quickly dwindling checking account convinced me.”
Today, though, my eyes fucked something they had never seen before: the PUMPKIN BANANA CINNAMON MUFFIN. I know my eyes had really never seen it before since there was a cute little toothpick sign sticking out of one of the muffins that said “SPECIAL! TODAY ONLY!” which can really be translated to mean “Hannah you have to eat me! YOLO bitches!”
So SPECIAL! TODAY ONLY! also known as YOLO bitches! led to me buying this pumpkin banana cinnamon muffin along with a coffee that I didn’t even really want, or have an appetite for, in the first place.
My friend and I have a thing for pumpkin things. We have a pumpkin thing thing. This is the context I’m providing to help you understand both why I had to buy the muffin and what will unfold after I purchased the muffin.
I texted her right away:
The night before, I had also heard that homemade pumpkin flavored challah (the Jewish bread that tastes, in the best way possible, like raw, dry French toast) was going to be sold between the hours of 11am and 1pm. So before I had purchased the pumpkin muffin, I knew I was on a mission to at some point acquire a pumpkin challah.
I was v sad about the outcome of the pumpkin banana cinnamon muffin, as the outcome was that the entire thing had ended up in my stomach when I had only intended on having half of it. And my friend told me I was absurd. I later made sure she wasn’t fat-shaming me — she wasn’t. She just gets bothered by unfulfilled promises.
While I was sad-texting my mother about the annihilation of the pumpkin banana cinnamon muffin, I walked into class and was offered a “pumpkin bar.” What is a pumpkin bar, you might ask? “It’s kind of like pumpkin cake. It has chocolate chips in it,” its baker told me. If that doesn’t sound appetizing enough to you, I’ll make it better: It was, in its essence, pumpkin mush. It was like undercooked banana bread, but pumpkin bread, with chocolate chips. “It has flour in it…” the baker shrugged. I died and went to heaven.
So let’s review: It was 10:02am, and I had consumed my gluten free flax oatmeal with chia seeds, a not gluten-free (so, a gluten) pumpkin banana cinnamon muffin, and a big chunk of pumpkin bar (pumpkin bread mush). And I was yet to purchase the challah.
Have no fear, children. I did it. I did not give up on the pumpkin challah:
While I waited for my friend — I guess by now you’ve realized her name is Sydney — to retrieve the challah from me via an action that would look like a perfectly orchestrated Super Bowl play, I decided to sit down and do some reading. I starting wondering: just how good do we think this challah is really going to be? Of course, the only way to figure out how good a challah is going to be is by trying it now, so I had to try it… now.
So, I tried half of the entire pumpkin challah. And if you didn’t catch what I meant the first time, go back and read that sentence again. It was good, but not as good (read: not as undercooked) as I wanted it to be. But it sufficed.
When I finally did see Sydney, I handed her the half-challah.
“I’m not even going to ask what happened,” she said. “Classic us.” Really, she should have just felt honored that I was gracious enough to leave her some leftovers this time.
If you have learned anything from this story, I hope it is this: Don’t eat breakfast every morning assuming you aren’t going to come across really fun and spunky pumpkin flavored baked goods throughout the day. Because obviously, you will, and obviously, gluten-free oatmeal with chia pets, or chia seeds, or whatever is what isn’t really worth it.
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