They weren't irresistable. I was a little hungry, though, and embarrassed to pull my peanut butter jar with the rusty top, sloshing buckwheat and nutmilk, from my purse (see below).
I was afraid of being made fun of.
No...it isn't even that good. I was afraid of being thought weird/grody.
Now. At this point I sooooo want to triumphantly tell you, "Fing crap! No more of that! This is the '90s, and I'm over it! Never again will I be too embarrassed to pull out my wet weird food in an audience of strangers!"
But gosh...is it so wrong to feel confusedly, childishly ashamed, sometimes?
These days I'm thinking it's not the end of the world.
Hope you can handle that.
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