This Week’s Truthful Tuesday: “You Probably Shouldn’t Force Feed Me”
Over the weekend I was upstate in Albany, New York for my friend Sarah’s wedding. I traveled there with two of my friends, Caitlin and Rachel. Aside from the obvious wedding celebration, there were a number of other activities planned, including an afternoon at the Saratoga Springs Racecourse. I knew this would be a good opportunity for me to check out some food outside of the city.
I know what I like and I know what I don’t like, or better yet, I know what I don’t want to like and don’t want to eat. It’s all part of being an A.P.E. When Sarah’s invitation came a few months ago, I was happy to see that there was a section on the RSVP to choose the type of main course you wanted as well as a space to list any dietary restrictions. Now, if I actually took advantage of that space, I’d have attached several sheets of additional paper to the RSVP card, indicating all of the foods I don’t eat. I would have sent Sarah a giant list of foods I am allergic to, foods I don’t like, foods I don’t want to try, etc. But, I felt it was best to be brief so I ended up checking the “beef” box and making a notation of my food allergies.
During the cocktail hour, there were hors d’oeuvres like mini cuban sandwiches, bruschetta, and chicken skewers. I picked at what looked good to me, but wasn’t going to try anything new. To try a new food, I really have to be in a certain frame of mind. I need to prepare myself, mentally. Otherwise, my brain won’t allow my mouth to actually chew the food and swallow it.
We all moved into the reception and had bread and salad to start. Thankfully (because I was starving) dinner came not to long afterwards. My plate arrived with some pieces of sliced beef, roasted potatoes, and some mushy yellow shit on the side. Other than the yellow, I was very happy. Being the detective that I am, I began poking the yellow pile with my fork and moving it around to try to determine it’s contents. Stumped, I turned to Caitlin and asked her what she thought it was. Caitlin tried to convince me it was squash, but I wasn’t too sure about that. It looked more like cooked yellow peppers (and I only eat raw peppers). I guess Rachel noticed the investigation taking place on my plate because she joined Caitlin in attempting to get me to taste the alleged squash substance.
I would like to explain to you all that I am not only a picky eater, but I am also an extremely stubborn person. When I make my mind up, you better try like hell if you want to change it because whatever it is I decide, is practically set in stone. An actual threat on my life might be the only circumstance where I will give in to my stubbornness. Since I had decided that the yellow goop looked like something that came out of my nose, there was no way I was going to eat it. For many non-picky eaters, this kind of thinking is completely irrational. Caitlin and Rachel, being non-picky eaters, believed that my decision to abstain from yellow mush was exactly that. They were not accepting “no” as an answer and Caitlin took action. She stabbed a few pieces of yellow slime with her fork and tried to put the food in my mouth. Both Caitlin and Rachel continued to beg me to “just try it” while more or less performing the “my fork is an airplane” trick used with babies. The main argument was “you can spit it out if you don’t like it” because “what’s the worst that could happen?” I had to think fast.
I wasn’t left with many options at this point. I could simply surrender and eat the damn stuff or I could continue to stand my ground. The only thing I knew for sure was that I needed to do something because I was not going to allow some weird looking yellow glob to drop onto my brand new Alice & Olivia dress. So, I did what any other normal adult would do who was in this kind of situation…
I opened my mouth to take in the food that was on the fork and pulled it off with my teeth. Then, without hesitation, I spit the whole thing out directly onto Caitlin’s plate. About three seconds of silence overcame the entire table. At that point I just looked over, shrugged my shoulders and said, “you said I could spit it out, so I did.”
This Week’s Truthful Tuesday: “You Probably Shouldn’t Force Feed Me”
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