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I am a picky eater. Sometimes when I tell people that, they seem to understand… until I explain. It’s not just that I prefer ketchup to fry sauce or don’t particularly like salad. I. Am. Picky.
My mom likes to tell the story about when I was a baby and reached over on the counter and started eating the lettuce. Or about how I used to love to eat the peas out of the Cup-of-Noodles. Pretty sure those were both flukes.
I remember so many meals spent eating my bread and cheese. That’s what my family has always said I’ve lived off of. It’s a joke, but they aren’t entirely wrong. I’ve always eaten a lot of bread, cheese, pasta, pizza, and junk food. My parents definitely tried to get me to try knew foods, but I was stubborn.
I missed out on a lot of desserts because I wouldn’t take one bite of something that probably would be a totally normal part of any one else’s diet. I remember sitting in the front room listening to my family talk and laugh while I missed out.
I made a New Year’s resolution one year in high school to try one new food a week. My friends were very supportive, but I spent an entire lunch period holding a tator tot over a cup of fry sauce shaking I was so scared to try either thing. I made it three weeks.
I was terrified to date, and mostly because of the food. I’ve always hated how everything centers around food. Every date was sooo awkward when I had to find that one thing on the menu I was willing to choke down, and I hated that I was making someone else pay for me to struggle through dinner.
I was the English Sterling Scholar for my high school my senior year. The school took all of the sterling scholars and their parents out for a nice dinner. I had a stomachache over the whole thing. (I get those when I’m stressed.) I really didn’t want to go. I spent the entire hour picking at my food, taking small bites, and slipping food onto my dad’s plate.
When I got to college and had to start feeding myself, things got interesting. I made the same three or four meals on rotate. Eventually I got sick of using the disgusting shared kitchens and mostly ate snack foods. Pop Tarts, chips, and crackers with some pasta, Little Caesar’s, and bananas thrown in there. My room roommate would make comments about how she loved that I just lived on snack foods.
I had a breakdown the night before my first date with my husband. He told me we were going to Tucanos for dinner. Not only would I not eat anything there, but it was also really expensive. So he let me pick where we were going. I picked Apple-bee’s… and the only thing I ate there were mozzarella sticks. Yes, I can be a pretty awkward person.
I tried to do Keto. I made it two really miserable meals and ended the day extremely defeated. A few months later I decided to go all in and make a really good salad. I Googled all the ingredients I would need and filled my fridge with good foods. The carrot was horrible. The Ranch was disgusting. Lettuce definitely has a taste. I didn’t even eat a single salad.
I’ve always wanted kids, and I’ve always been worried about how I would manage to feed them. To be honest, I’m still worried about that!
But here’s the thing: I manage.
I manage to make meals for my husband and kids that I would never dream of eating. I even manage to wash the dishes from those meals. I manage to go out to eat at restaurants and ask for the appetizer to come out with the other entrees. I manage to go to my in-laws for Thanksgiving and only eat rolls. I manage to go to potlucks and just eat when I get home. I manage.
I used to think this being a picky eater thing was such a curse. I’m still not thrilled about it, but it’s who I am. As I’ve grown up I’ve realized that everybody has something that makes life hard. Or multiple things. My pickiness sucks sometimes, but I’m learning to own it and not feel so bad when I won’t eat what others do. I’ve even learned that it doesn’t mean I can’t be healthy, either. You can put a lot of goodness in smoothies, and I take my multivitamins!
