81. Beetroot Juice

Recently my Mum has been obsessed with beetroot. She thinks we should all start chowing it down because it’s so good for us. Now I’m not averse to a bit of beetroot (and every time I eat some, I simply have to look in the mirror and check how red my tongue is) but I have limits. One of those limits is beetroot juice… hot beetroot juice.

My mum asked me to drink some and I was like:

Do you want to see me puke it up on the carpet? First off, it stinks. Secondly it looks like blood. Thirdly it was hot.

After I said no, my mum was like DRINK IT. DRINK IT NOW. What was the point of asking me if you were just going to force it upon me anyway?! I’m 21 years old and my mum can still make me to drink crap I don’t want to drink.

I reluctantly picked up the cup and pretended to take a gulp. Clearly my acting skills are not up to par because my mum knew straight away. She left me the whole cup and a threat: ‘this better be finished when I come back’.

I searched the room looking for a way out.

1. I couldn’t drain it down the sink- Mum was in the kitchen.
2. I couldn’t give it to the plants- their leaves would turn red.
3. I couldn’t randomly take a stroll in the garden and accidentally drop it in the grass- Mum would be suspicious.

I was stuck.

I had to drink it.