Unleash the girl brats.

I don’t truly like food with msg. Let alone ramyeon, ramen or instant noodles. But if I got no mood, this food will be sufficient meals.

When during moon time (menses)… I have some kind of “ocd” towards some of my daily wants. One of them is my particular fussiness upon how my noodles are being cooked.

I don’t like my ramen noodles soggy. I don’t like diluted soups. I prefer my partially cooked eggs full and perfect with soft molten yolk. I love green veggies (kimchi as side dish/in stew) to be included if any.

Everything else like meat, seafood are luxuries and are not necessary. Sometimes when the mood comes, I like to eat them, spoonfuls wrapped with seaweed, if available.

My kids, I taught them to cook the essentials as young as 7/8.

So they can explore the world without having to search high and low for halal food but able to cook themselves cheap healthy meals like the locals.

So when they had to cook instant noodles for me…they thought it would be easy as the 2 minute noodles ads. It wasn’t. Depends on my moontime, it can also be a nightmare.

I reflect upon myself and if I want it as perfect as I envisioned the noodles to be, I rather diy. And as I learn more about what women went through with my work and in life…

During moon time, it’s OK to be the brats that we hid often. Unleash them. Let them all out. For decades, some of us were taught that it’s not OK to be our truth and authentic selves. To be good and nice girls all our lives, we have to hid parts of us that may not seem OK to the mass and especially our parents.

Eventually this cause a rift within us. We forgot who or what we truly are.

I suggest during moon time, we take these precious time to reflect upon our truths. Be with ourselves. Be the brats if you have to (without having to hurt others). Be with the brats. They just want to be seen, heard and matter. See with heart and unconditional love. Pamper what needed to. Set dates for yourselves as well.

If I needed my noodles to be as such, I diy. Sometimes I want some things so bad unsure why I wanted. Perhaps in childhood I was denied of it or I wanted something to be so perfect. No matter how “ocd” I might be, I do it for me. I do my best to love me the way I wanted to be loved in all my seasons of imperfections and ugliness I illusioned myself to be.

If I cannot love myself in all forms of beauty, and imperfections, who can love me fully?