Tobyjoe and I have this game we play (well, I have this game I play) where I ask him “How much to eat that?” Or, “How much to have sex with that person?” And he rolls his eyes and gives me some obscenely high dollar amount. (Although, now that we’re trying to save up for a house, he’s a little cheaper.) The other day I asked him, “How much to eat the placenta after I give birth?” And he didn’t answer me, just pretended I hadn’t said anything at all. That’s when I knew I’d asked something so repulsive it was beyond any dollar amount.
“I’d do it for 20 grand.” I proudly declared. “I bet it tastes like bacon. I am not sure why I think that, but I bet it’s really salty like bacon.” When we play this game, he usually ends up calling me weird. But I’m not so much as weird as I am unbelievably whorish. I’m weirdly whorish. If the price is right, I’ll pretty much eat anything.
Jen sent me a link today about a woman who tried to make (and eat) Paneer from her own breastmilk. (It didn’t work because it doesn’t curdle, apparently.) But let’s say that it had. I love Paneer. I haven’t been able to consume Saag Paneer since I got pregnant. And I miss it. I miss that yummy soft cheese and that creamy spinach. At this point I’d consume my own for 20,000 bucks. (In all honesty, I’d probably do it for free just to FREAK YOU ALL OUT!) Like I said, I’m whorish. I imagine the rest of the world might find it totally gross and repulsive. But that won’t stop me from asking the question. How much would it take for you to eat your own (or your wife’s/significant other’s) freshly made, breastmilk paneer?
(Tobyjoe must answer the question above.)