I grew up as a notoriously picky eater. At one point I decided I didn’t like pizza. Seriously. What kind of (non-communist) kid doesn’t like pizza?
I’ve grown out of most of my food fickleness, but I’ve developed some other odd habits.
1. I have an unnatural fear of spoiled dairy. Ever since a family member assured me that the milk was good, and large clumps of milk-phlegm plopped into my glass, I’ve believed that every dairy product has gone irrevocably bad just moments before I picked it up. I do a lot of smelling.
2. I assign personalities to fruit. Wait, before you call the folks at county health, let me explain. What I mean to say is this: I won’t put down a bruised apple in favor of a better one. Once I pick it up, whether at the store, or in the basket at work, it’s mine. Two reasons for this. First, I think that I’m the most compassionate eater on earth (though I eat meat, go figure), and nobody else will eat this less-than-perfect fruit. It will be thrown in the trash and the resources which went into planting, growing, picking, and transporting the apple will be a complete waste. Second, I think the apple will feel rejected. And having felt the sting of rejection many times in my life, I have a hard time saying no to an innocent piece of fruit. Yeah, that’s the crazy part. Call county health.