When I was a young warthog

20 some years later, I still make that same face around sweets

I like to bake in varying degrees of half-nakedness. From shirt no pants to pants no shirt to apron over underwear to underwear only. It’s not as sexy or unsanitary as it sounds.

My theory is that, much like how losing one sense causes your other senses to become heightened, my brain becomes hyper-aware of my surroundings due to the amount of skin I am exposing and overcompensates as a self-defense mechanism. I am essentially Daredevil, but only in the kitchen. And without the tragic backstory and thirst for vengeance.

Since ditching clothes in the kitchen, my kitchen-related injuries have all but disappeared, and the quality of the food that comes out of my kitchen has skyrocketed. Although the latter may be attributed to a confounding variable, such as the old adage that “practice makes perfect”, I am neither a statistician nor do I particularly care, so I’m attributing the deliciousness to my lack of clothing.

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