You've probably heard the saying that all daughters eventually become their mothers. Well, I think my transformation's begun. My flatmate and I went grocery shopping this week, and came across a bog roll bargain. Even though we have no space to store 18 rolls of loo paper (I really like books and shoes, remember), we bought them anyway. As we were calculating what a bargain we stumbled upon (it's me, so there was actual stumbling...lots of it), I said to my flatmate, "I feel like my mother".

Like many South Africans all of my mother's bulk buys come from Makro. All Makro means to me is the giant walk-in fridge. That's the only reason I ever go there. In case you didn't understand how awesome Makro is, let me say it again: YOU CAN WALK INTO A FRIDGE! My mother, however, does not just go to Makro to stand in the fridge and stare at the abundance of milkshake. She actually buys stuff, and sometimes in bulk.

So yes, I now buy in bulk. I buy shitloads of toilet paper. I can't think of anything more grown-up and bourgeois. Does this mean that I am no longer the awkward, inept almost adult? No. I think I'm at some sort of middle ground between stumbling home at 3am with strangers and discussing why Woolworths' milk is better than Spar's, but why Spar's fresh bread is better than Woolworths'. 

Here's why:

I somehow managed to (over)cook everything except the burgers. Although, I didn't burn supper for once. Also, when I removed the burgers, the oven tan lines looked like glasses.

That observation, however, sounds suspiciously like something a hipster would say. In order to combat this I must do something acceptably mainstream. I'm thinking of listening to Adele while wearing Crocs. Excuse me as I sing along to Set Fire to the Rain while attempting to not actually set fire to anything...