By Eve Eden
There is a part of me that is not loyal. This part detests being faithful to what it adores. For this part of me, it was born for exploration. The quickly it loves something, the quicker it must find a better alternative to derive greater pleasure. It loathes the boredom that comes with sticking to one thing or having a favourite thing. It craves for excitement; something to set it spinning and summersaulting. This part of me is my tongue; ever itching for a new taste. Its puzzling how my taste bud loves experimenting. My taste bud or tongue is flirty.
It has ventured into so much sprees. I feel it may run out of something to quench its needs before I live all my bountiful years. I can’t even recall all the numerous tongue swings I have dealt it, just six months into the year.
I launched my new year day with baking mince pie. The craving for it consumed it that it seemed if I denied it such pleasure it may jump out of my mouth and search for another shelter. It was blown away by mince pies and cheese balls (Jumbo sizes only). Then I thought I had secured something it would be enslaved to till old age. The orange dust from the cheese balls altered the colour of my pink tongue to orange. I lavished on it. It was radiant days for my tongue but trying days for my purse. I was investing into the cheese maker firm. The kiosk owner in my neighborhood was readily available to cure my tongue plague. I became an answered prayer from Allah.
Then it snapped, it switched to mangoes. It claimed that this was the magic it lacked. It would devour six ripe mangoes for breakfast. Oh, how succulent their juices were that my tongue would erect at the taste of mangoes. Feed it anything then, it would just curl up and turn pale. I turned into a local market goer hunting for mangoes. It savoured all sizes. From mini, medium and maxi sizes; all to appease my voracious tongue. It’s always pleased to receive such indulgence. I was lucky that it came while mangoes were in season. Suddenly, it climbed up to shawarma during the lockdown. It was possessive that I had to start making shawarma for me. Shawarma cost is above average where I reside. I was thankful the day it got fed up with it. Gladly, I can shut my eyes now and dress a sharwarma for its pleasure (a wild tongue is difficult to tame). I had to look for means to cope not to drain my wallet all for a momentarily inclination.
The coconut season demanded more physical strength than my finance. I would shell it and crack it into my mouth with delight. It was tough having to endure the rigorous activities to have this nut. First, you have to go into the inner part of the market to buy it, patiently return home and hit it unto a hard surface. Next, is holding the knife and a broken piece of the coconut with so much care to avoid cut while shelling it. There was a time my colleagues couldn’t help but show concern why my lunch bag couldn’t produce anything except yam. I bet none of you have transformed yam into all the variants I have done with. Has your tongue tasted mashed yam with oat porridge?
Oh, dear; I had so much breakouts when all that mattered in the entire universe for my tongue was mayonnaise. I had the whitish cream lay beside whatever was laid on my plate. Sometimes, I leaked it when I lacked the motivation or patience to pair it with any food. I still have a stash of the kemps yellow cracker I bought during the cracker episode. My tongue got over it and dumped it. Then, it served as my daily breakfast and snack moments for days before all the butterflies for it fled off and haven’t flown back.
At the moment, its bamboozled with corn. The janitor in my place of work who helps me buy it doesn’t have to ask me about my order for lunch after a day’s work. He just comes and stretches his hands for cash. I would enjoy these crunchy days before the whole fire for it puffs off.
Notwithstanding, the tussle I go through to appease my taste buds, I value it for knowing when to purge itself of all that glitters and crave for things that enhances longevity. For months my tongue has warned me to stay off pasta no matter how alluring they are prepared. As for milk and coffee, it bid it farewell in 2019. Even, when I compel it to have it when taking cereal, it takes it with much disgust. I must confess; my monthly cramps have subsided – all thanks to low or no milk intake! No desire for caffeine has also helped me in enjoying my female cycle. There are days when all it wants are things that taste bland. The cheap but valuable items. The beautiful days for cucumbers, walnuts, dates, fresh aloe Vera gel extract, brewed, lime, ginger, garlic and so on. How prideful I feel for such healthy weeks before the nasty tastes stirs up.
I bless heavens that being wild and faithless with this part of me is mostly positive than negative. I would have been doomed if my wonderland was this insatiable.