A shocking confession: I am beet. Beets - my longtime love - have beat me.
After eating them approximately twice a day for the last month, I don't want to see another beet for a very, very long time.
You see, about two summers ago, I entered into a rather passionate love affair with beets. I suppose I had liked them well enough before, but for some reason after I broke up with my boyfriend of two years, I turned to beets. Yeah, I know, its messed up. Girls are supposed to find solace in Haagen-Daazs after a break-up, right? Or Ben and Jerrys? Well, I'm clearly not a normal girl, because somehow I found myself making trips to the London farmers' market on a mission to buy beets.
And that was just the beginning. I used to defend my obsession to my roommates and family, who were all equally tired of finding beet juice stains EVERYWHERE, as proof of my Russian heritage. "This is just a sign that I really am Russian," I'd say smugly. "Its in my blood, my genetic makeup, to love beets." (Note: sadly, I must confess that there is very little likely chance that my ancestors were Russian, regardless of how much I love beets...and cabbage...and vodka...)
My beet love continued unabated and kept going strong during nine months of living in Russia. But in the past month, living at Euro Club camp and eating beets for breakfast every morning (breakfast of champions, didn't you know?), something has happened...
We've broken up. I honestly don't know if I can stomach the thought of eating beets EVER AGAIN. (Yes, I am prone to occasional hyperbole if you haven't noticed yet)
You know, I've spent a lot of time this past month fantasizing over what I want my "first meal" back in Canada to be. Mum, Dad, if you're reading this, please be aware that greeting me with beets would be a cruel, cruel joke...because I truly am beet.*
*In more ways than one. Finally back in Moscow for a few days before my flight back to Canada, and I am exhausted. Off to bed!