The Bitter Sweet Story Of The Not-So-Young-Girl And The Cauliflower Pizza Base

Look, I could have just posted the photos below and you all would have been incredibly impressed with me (maybe) but behind every picture there is a story and I think this bitter sweet tale of the not-so-young-girl and the cauliflower pizza base is a good one. So enjoy ;)

So here I am sitting on my kitchen floor with cauliflower residue all over my hands and now in my hair because I've got my head in my hands asking myself why the fuck can't I make a decent cauliflower pizza? Or better yet why can't I just have a real fucking pizza with mountains of cheese and salami made out of seven different animals? No, because I'm cleansing my soul and ridding myself of dirty habits such as sitting on cold kitchen floors swearing and then confiding in strangers. 

Don't worry not looking to give up the confiding in strangers part yet, but it doesn't matter because you're my friends -  aren't you, aren't you!! Fuck it. Let's check Instagram for a distraction. Scrolling through the sea of fashion bloggers all of which are around about a AUS size 8, feeling guilty about wanting to go out and buy "lean" salami. Oh look, guy I'm interested in is having a witty, flirtatious conversation with a hilarious beautiful and semi famous tennis player on my instagram feed. They are both commenting on her photo, which is of nothing significant but her über charming tag line is a subliminal come fuck me to incredibly handsome but intellectual men like the one im currently infatuated with, bitch. 

I notice a few minutes later that he ends their insty convo with a wink. I throw myself on the floor like a ridiculous adolescent my tantrum is suddenly cut short by the smell of burning plant matter. My cauliflower base has finally decided to not only crisp up but burn. I want to cry. I turn the oven off and retreat back to my laying on the kitchen floor position, and then I realise that I'm twenty something years old on the verge of tears sprawled out on my mother's kitchen floor wearing a hideous K-mart apron using social media to stalk someone that I've never even met.

And the next thing I know mum is standing over me with an incredibly concerned look on her face probably because her only daughter who she has invested a lot of time and ballet classes in is sitting on the floor with now an abundance of crusty cauliflower in her hair. So I did the only thing I could do in this situation to prove to mum that I am in fact able to take care of myself and that was pick myself up and proceed to make another cauliflower base, with my phone turned off! and well it actually turned out pretty darn good...

The end.