Raw Chicken

I have always had this weird irrational love/hate relationship with meat. Even at 23, I still make my mother cut my chicken off the bone for me, and if she's not around, I just don't eat it. I'm basically a five year-old when it comes to eating meat. I can't even stand to look at raw meat, let alone touch it. I would always conveniently be checking my phone whenever we would pass the meat department at the grocery store. I'm telling you, I'm a child.

Well now I'm on my own, my mother lives thirty minutes away, and I don't think my roommates and I are on the level where I can ask them to cut my chicken for me, so I have to do this myself. I've been in my apartment for about three weeks now and today was the first day I ate chicken that wasn't from a restaurant or pre-made from the grocery store.

I made my own chicken. Raw, frozen uncooked chicken.

For me, this is the equivalent to a baby taking it's first steps. While the mere thought of eating chicken off the bone still gives me shivers, I am definitely making progress. And that is all one can do, make progress.