Confessions of a Finicky Eater

I have always been choosy about my food. My parents called my "picky," I prefer "finicky," or "selective" when it comes to describing my eating. The point is, the list of things I would not eat used to be significantly longer than the list of things I would. At age five I ate melted cheese sandwiches, chicken strips, applesauce, and cereal; present my with a vegetable and I suddenly my knee would hurt too much for me to eat dinner, or I'd come up with some other ailment.

Twenty years later, I am still a finicky eater but I've figured out the real problem behind some of those gag-inducing foods. TEXTURE. As it turns out, nearly every food I dislike is on the dislike list because of its texture. I don't like foods that are unreasonably mushy, slimy, or squeaky. In my opinion, vegetables should never be boiled or steamed. Mushrooms, cauliflower, brusssel sprouts, eggplant, and artichokes are never okay. I can't do tomatos unless they are in marinara or finely chopped salsa. I can't eat onions that are any larger than my pinky fingernail. I don't eat seafood.

I have added countless things to my food repertoire in the past few years. My expanded pallette combined with the fact that I choose what we eat for dinner nearly every night makes it pretty easy not to have run-ins with food that I don't like. Fortunately/unfortunately we sometimes get invited to other people's houses for dinner. I love having friends and I love food. The combination of eating and being with friends is pretty much the best ever. But sometimes, just sometimes, I still have anxiety about what the food is going to be if I'm not cooking it. Maybe they will serve me cauliflower soup! Maybe there will be a mushy-veggie filled souflet! Oh the worry! A couple of weeks ago we were invited to a brand new friend's house and, feeling guilty, I warned her that under no cicumstances could I eat seafood. She made us a delicious soup with salad and bread, but I still had to go through the anxiety of wondering what was on the menu, and the lame feeling of letting her know that there were things I couldn't eat.

My point is, it sucks being choosy about food. I wish I was one of those people that could eat anything and be happy about it but I'm not. I know that there are millions of children starving all over the world, and I advocate for them but I don't need to feel even more guilty about my eating problem! So friends, be aware of those finicky eaters in your life, know that they are not being difficult on purpose, and that they mean no offense to your food.