As I sit here eating my lunch and digging my black, plastic fork into my medium cup of fruit, from Chick-fil-A, and saw there was only one single strawberry left it dawned on me… who am I? I don’t eat strawberries! When did I start liking them? What is going on here?
Please understand what a pickey eater I am. First off, and please don’t judge me here, but I do not eat red meat and I haven’t for nine years. I can just hear Aunt Voula, from my Big Fat Greek Wedding, “You don’t eat no meat?!” It is quite a complicated choice and I have probably made it insanely annoying for everyone I love who enjoys cooking out, and during the summer it is a popular pastime, atleast here in Georgia. No cheese burgers for me, turkey burgers, yes. Chicken? Sure. Bison, not so much. All my friends and family have accepted me for my wacky and unusual choice, but isn’t that what your friends and family are supposed to do? Soy? No. You don’t want me to eat soy… if you give me soy you better hand over the Beano or gas ex and not just the regular or store brand… I need the ULTIMATE extreme… okay, moving on. I still get the “oh yah! You don’t eat beef,” and it is always followed with “why?” I, look at them, take a deep breath and sigh, and oblige to give a short and concise explanation of, “it’s just a personal choice.”
Moving on I will let you know I was always one of those kids who would say, “no thank you,” to certain things at dinner time and get togethers. Don’t you hate those kids? I detested cream corn, tomatoes, collard greens and watermelon. My love for coke never existed and I still hate that bubbly mess in my mouth. I know the taste for these items will never, ever change. Okay, probably… I have learned to never say “never.” However, I cannot say the same for scrumptious, caesar salads, delicious, red strawberries, juicy red or green apples, steamed broccoli, buttery asparagus, twice baked potatoes and coffee. Yes, I said coffee. I used to not drink coffee. Try to wrap that factoid around your brain. I find myself craving these things as if I were some pregnant woman yearning to satisfy my appetite. My appetite for those I used to gag to visualize on my plate.
What is going on here? Am I getting older and learning to appreciate more things in life? Is this normal? Why is it I hated eating Caesar salads about a year ago and then just one day… it was different. It was like an alien ship came to earth and reprogrammed part of my brain while I was sleeping. “You want strawberries. You are a good person. You want to go to the Island.”
Any thoughts or answers? I was just wondering.