The Picky College Girl

Me and two of my college friends having lunch after graduation at one of our favorite restaurant.  I can't even begin to tell you how many chicken fingers I ate at this place over the course of my 3 years there.

Being a picky child is one thing. Even at 10, 11, 12 most people will just roll their eyes and get you a pb&j. When you are a picky teenager, it begins to get harder. It is far more embarrassing to be different. Don't get me wrong, my friends were usually very understanding and kind about it, but it was still hard. Being 16 or 17 years old and ordering off the children's menu or taking a McDonald's bag into a Chinese restaurant is kind of humiliating.
The older I got, the worse it was. College was particularly difficult. I had been a heavy girl since my preteen years, but all the waffles I ate in the cafe because there was nothing else I liked only helped pack on the pounds. My friends got so tired of going to the same restaurants all the time. Never once would I agree to go somewhere like the Japanese steak house. How boring for them! I felt bad, but going to those kinds of places was just too scary for me.
One year, over Christmas break, my family went on a Caribbean cruise. All you could eat of the most amazing foods were offered each night, but what did I have? Chicken nuggets off the children's menu.
Every.
Freaking.
Night.

My cousins and I with our waiter.  After the first couple nights, he just left the children's menu at my seat every evening.  He knew I'd want the chicken nuggets.

And each day it was pizza for lunch. How boring! How much I must have missed out on! I comforted myself with the thought that I liked chicken. It was familiar and yummy. I knew how pathetic it was though.

Mr. Broccoli

When I was about 10, I had this friend.  I spent a lot of time with her and her family.  My sister and I would stay over at their house, go out to eat with them, etc.  Well, my friend had a dad (we'll call him Mr. Broccoli).  Mr. Broccoli apparently decided that it was his mission in life to cure me of being a picky eater.

Now listen people, I teach preschool.  I spend everyday with the same kids.  Everyday I try to shape and mold those children with my influence in small ways.  I hope that some of it will produce something good in them one day (I am certain that some of it is negative.  I'm far from perfect).  However, the fact is this; every night those children go home to be with their parents.  Every night, 97% (this percentage was totally made up) of what I try to instill in them goes down the drain.  Every morning, they come back, for better or for worse, as the children that their parents are raising them to be.

Mr. Broccoli had little to no chance of success in this matter.  He had me at his home maybe once every few weeks.  My parents had allowed me to get out of eating what I didn't want to eat for about 8 years.  Oh sure, he forced me to eat something off the buffet at a Chinese restaurant once, (just some plain, fried chicken breast pieces...something I was already eating, but which scared me because it looked different) but there was no way that my whole life was going to change over this.  I recall that once he tried to make me eat a piece of broccoli at his house.  I downright refused.  I was crying over it, and he was insistent that I try it.  My parents happened to show up during the escapade, and I finagled my way out of tasting the broccoli.  Looking back, I suppose my parents were spoiling me.  They probably should have made me eat that broccoli or at least taste it.  But let's face facts, at that point there was zero chance I was going to like it.  I was predetermined to find it disgusting.

I remember another time when a friend's parent was seriously annoyed with me.  She had asked if I liked hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.  I'd said that I did.  Well, when she called us in for lunch, I discovered that the hot dog was actually cut up and put IN the mac and cheese.  I was horrified.  There was no way I was putting that in my mouth!  I'm sure she tried to force me to eat it.  I'm equally certain that I did not.  I really was a stubborn kid!  I have no idea why the idea of these two foods touching was so shocking to me, but I certainly remember that it was!

I tell you these stories because 20+ years later, I still remember them.  They were huge deals in my life.  That seems absurd.  Why should a piece of broccoli and some hot dogs in mac & cheese have had such an impact? But that's how it was.  Eating is emotional for me.  It always has been. My eating habits have controlled my life in so many ways.  They were controlling my life as a small child.  They controlled it as a teenager.  They controlled it in college and on into my adulthood.

Fear

If you are not a picky eater yourself, please try to understand something. We aren't picky because we are stubborn or trying to make your life difficult. I can't speak for all picky eaters, but I can tell you how it was for me. You know that irrational fear that you have? Think about it for a moment. Contemplate facing that thing head on. Think about letting that spider crawl all over you. Consider climbing up to the top of that mountain and looking down over the edge. Think about squeezing yourself into a tiny space and staying there all day.  That is how it felt for me.  If I looked at a sliced tomato, my mind never registered anything along the lines of "that would be so nice on a sandwich!"  Instead, I looked at it and saw something slimy and disgusting.  It didn't look edible.  Putting it into my mouth would have been almost as repulsive and frightening to me as biting into a fat slug.

Throughout my life, one of the scariest things to face was an invitation to someone's house for dinner. If it was someone who knew me well, it wasn't such a big deal..."Oh, Lauren is coming, we'll just order a pizza or make her a peanut butter sandwich,"  but even then I would feel guilty.  I knew I was depriving people of eating what they really wanted just to please me.  Still, the worst was visiting someone new.  First, there was the fear of offending them.  People have a tendency to feel very personally about the food they make, and I don't blame them for it. I hated the idea of hurting someone's feelings because I wouldn't eat their food.  But even if the person was really understanding about it, it was still awkward.  There were those who tried to encourage me to "just try it," and others who would try to find me something else to eat.  It didn't matter which way it went though.  In either case, it was uncomfortable.  I certainly wasn't looking to be the center of attention.  All I wanted to do was disappear into a hole somewhere.   

That's the thing about being a picky eater.  It's embarrassing.  It was never something I liked about myself (though I would fake-brag about being the pickiest person around).  It wasn't my desire to be picky.  I honestly didn't feel like I could do anything about it.  I wasn't in control of my life.  The selective eater inside me was calling all the shots.

Greek Fest Fail

I hate when I let myself down. I think I am going so well. I honestly believe that I am not that girl who has to fight back tears in a new food situation, but then it happens. Yesterday, I went to a local Greek Fest with my boyfriend's family. We had planned on having lunch there, and I had said I was willing to try it out. When we arrived, his family bypassed the outdoor food booths, and walked into a building that had been set up as a cafe. As I looked at the picture menu full of unfamiliar items, an extremely familiar and unwelcome feeling began to rise up in me. The terror was started to build. I could sense that if I didn't get a grip quickly, the tears would soon arrive. "Stop it!!" I told myself. It was irrational. There was nothing to fear here. It was just food, and there was not the slightest chance of my starving to death. I told my boyfriend that I didn't think there was anything in there that I wanted to eat. My plan was to walk through and look at it all, and then try to find something at the outside booths. Other people, however, are usually too helpful (and I really mean that in a nice way) to allow things to be so simple, and I was too emotional at this point to try to explain well. His family pointed out that there was chicken on the menu, but then remembered that I don't like chicken on the bone.  It is still so embarrassing to have so much attention on my pickiness. It makes me feel like a freak.

Eventually it was decided that my boyfriend and I would head outside to look for something else. I felt horrible because I knew he thought the food in there looked amazing. I finally did find something I was good with. I had Chicken Soulvaki on a pita with sour cream, tomatoes, and onion. My bf got a gyro that he thought sadly lacking in toppings.

We joined his family again to eat together, and I could tell he was jealous of their food. Honestly, one of the things they had ended up looking way better to me in person than it had in the picture. I kind of regretted not trying it (apparently it tasted like baked Skyline Chili). Thankfully my bf's family all had a ton of food and he ended up getting enough of what they had to more than make up for not ordering his own. The only one who really missed out was me.  They did offer, but I'm not big on eating after other people.

I hope that someday I will have put the pickiness behind me. I want to be un-afraid to try new things. I want new food experiences to thrill instead of terrify me. I know I have come a long way. I do try things now. I eat so many more things than I used to. I normally am proud of myself. But when I fail, I feel like I'll never change. I am not going to let those failures stop me though. It was a lost battle, but I will not let food defeat me in the end.