It’s interesting. Over the past few months I have noticed a growing obsession of mine.
I am becoming obsessed with macaroons.
Thing is, I can’t really eat macaroons. And I’ve only had possibly 5 of them in my whole life. But I think about them often.
What even are these strange colourful discs? They look more like decorations than delicacies: something to stack up on a shelf rather than nibble on with your tea. And really, do they even taste that great anyway? They are kind of meringue-y, soft, and often overpoweringly sweet.
I am obsessed with macaroons because I can’t eat them! Because I am diabetic. And I only have been for just under a year, and I weirdly think of these little colourful pucks of sugar because I know that they are the epitome of my intolerance to sugar and carbohydrates.
It may also be that they appear just so pretty. As Blair Waldorf greedily indulges in a box of them in her bath tub in Gossip Girl, my stomach lurches and swirls, craving these ridiculous things that provide the body with next to no nutrition whatsoever!
Ah, so sue me. I dream of macaroons. There are worse things.