The Rice Pudding part 2


“Are you really doing the rice experiment?” my friend Kimberley asked me, “Or is that just a stock photo?”

Am I really doing the rice experiment?

Well, it was really me that made a special trip to my local Tesco’s (which is a stressful experience in itself, cause although I’ve been in there almost daily for six years, and chat to the security guard more often than I speak to my own dad, it’s been refurbished recently and I now can’t bloody well find anything).

And it was really me that perused all the available rice and opted for some Uncle Ben’s Boil in the Bag, adhering to the finickity (ie annoying) side of myself that thought it important to use rice from the same bag for the experiment to be ‘right’.

It was also really me that cooked one bag of rice, measured out two portions of the same size, put them in the jars and added water.

A while later it was really me that started panicking about the fact I’d added water. I’d seen a video where Dr Emoto described doing that, but I was sure that in his original experiment, there had been no blimming water.

So it was really me that felt a bit agitated, and decided to start all over again, cook another bag of rice and put it in the jars. Without water this time.

And really me that then began stressing about whether that was the right thing to do.

And me that told myself I really needed to get a grip, cause I was only doing this in an attempt to stop having negative thoughts rather than undertaking a proper experiment. I’m not a scientist (and I don’t think I’m being unnecessarily hard on myself by saying that) and no-one was going to give a shit about the results or whether they’d been obtained in a controlled environment.

And then me that really ignored my own talking to and decided to add a spoonful of water to each jar, just to be on the safe side. As a happy medium. Somewhat ironically, as I was feeling far from happy.

Then it was me that had the leftover boiled rice for my dinner. With fish-fingers. Really.

The following morning it was really me that woke up feeling anxious. For no reason. Admittedly I had been having weird rice-based dreams during the night but they weren’t exactly frightening. I was probably more disturbed when I worked in a Chinese restaurant and had a rude dream about one of the chefs, who had always given me the heebie-jeebies (that’s not a euphemism. Or an oriental dish.) In the real-world he couldn’t speak any English, but in the dream-world he was fluent. In that, as well as the language of love, body language, talking dirty….(ewwww!) It was a nightmare. Literally.

It was really me that just couldn’t shake the horrible feeling of anxiety that morning. The nausea and heart palpitations to name a couple of symptoms. I remember being at school and me and a friend both had a mind-blank on how to pronounce anxiety. We knew anxious was ‘ankshus’, so thought that logically it would be ‘ankshitty.’ In a way we were probably right.

So it was me that thought it would be a really good time to talk to the ‘bad’ jar of rice. I lay in bed with it beside me and said horrible stuff to it for 9 minutes, while my alarm snoozed. Like some bizarre rice whisperer.

And me that still felt really weird and unable to be positive towards the ‘good’ rice, so decided to have another snooze. A sort of 9 minute thought-interlude.

And woke up 90 minutes later. Bollocks.

So it was a really frantic me that jumped in the shower and in my haste managed to splash water to the end of the bath where my rubber duck sits. The one that starts changing colour when it gets wet. As it began flashing blue…pink…purple…it made me smile and I started feeling happier and perfectly able to chat to the good rice. Except I hadn’t taken it in to the shower with me. Obviously. Cause what kind of weirdo would do that? (Says the girl that had just had rice in bed with her.)

I then really had to get to work so there was no time for flirting with food anyway. And by the time I got home that evening my positive vibes had all but disappeared.

Until…I discovered I’d been shortlisted for best personal blog in the Blog North Awards.

Me! Really me!

So it was really me that put that news on Facebook and then received some of the loveliest compliments ever.

And then it was really me that sat and read all those compliments to the jar of rice with the pretty bow around it. For 9 minutes.

“So in answer to your question Kimberley, yep, I really am doing the rice experiment.”

“You do know that is a bit mad don’t you?”

“Yeah I’m starting to think it really really is.”

ps Would be lovely if you’d vote for Bitten by the Dog in the blog awards. It just takes one click. Down there in the personal blog section. Thanks –  just like my jar of rice with the pretty bow around it – you are great!

I am what I am
I am my own special creation
So come take a look
Give me the hook or the ovation
Gloria Gaynor – I Am What I Am

  • Jessica Barnett

    I’m sat in bed at 11.45pm with a bowl of crunchy-nut cornflakes after just having discovered your blog and frantically absorbing every single post and I just have to say that you are amazing and this post just made me laugh out loud and dribble milk out of my mouth. xx