There was a time in my life where a few times a day I would have to inconvenience someone. I was like a king the way I was special amongst other people. My will was exacted or my fury wrought. I was a picky eater and I would not stop until I was feeding upon food of my liking.
It began much worse than it is now. I would only eat ketchup with hamburger and then only when it was absent of the bun. I would not eat tomato sauce on my noodles, and anything green? forget about it. I would discriminate over color, shape, smell, and above all, texture.
I got better. I warmed to ketchup and tomato sauce by my teens, but for the most part veggies were not my idea of a good time. Then in college something amazing happened. I began to cook regularly. I cooked for myself, for others, for groups, for ladies, I was a cooking machine. I realized something. I was having a great time imagining meals that I had no intention of eating, yet I still found my mouth watering (thank you Iron Chef.)
So now I sit amongst all the other people in life who can order a salad with anticipation, ask for a menu item without changing it, I will even eat a few vegetarian meals each week now. But does that mean that I am right? I still go to Wendy's and ask them for my favorite meal, the Spicy Chicken sandwich, plain. I will only put pickles on a burger (see earlier posts.) I still cant eat raw tomato even though I love each and every one of its products, I wont touch brussel sprouts, and occasionally there are things that gross me out.
In the end, I believe that everything should be tried. I spent a semester in Mexico. things were tried. Get out there and open your eyes. Its ok to be picky where picky is preferred, but you have no excuse to not broaden yourself. I now prefer onions on my cheese steak and mushrooms on my pizza. I look foreword to my next change of heart and so should you.