I am a picky eater. I always have
been. It took me a long time to get over the issues I have with
texture, my main reason for disliking food, taste is secondary. I
don't hate food, nor do I have an unhealthy relationship with it, but
there are certain foods I will not eat. Growing up, my father would
make certain meals. There were certain things I would not eat, meat
was one of them. It was not a moral choice. I was not a vegetarian.
I couldn't get past the issues I had with texture. My father would
make beef stew, one of my favorite things to eat, but in order to get
me to eat it, he'd have to pick out all of the pieces of meat. I
loved the vegetables, the barley, and the flavor the beef provided;
the compromise was an easy one to make. It's not hard to pick out a
few cubes of beef. It took me awhile, but I grew out of my dislike
of eating meat. I still have issues with texture, but now it's a
regular staple in my diet. I don't eat meat every day, but I do eat
it.
I don't like strawberries because they
have seeds on them. Weird quirk? Probably.
I'm highly allergic to melon, it sucks,
because I crave it. We tend to crave the things we are most allergic
to because they contain the enzymes and other vital nutrients your
body needs. This is something my allergist warned me about. When I
eat melon, I become gluttonous. I will eat it until I break out in
hives. I will eat it until I have a hard time breathing. I will eat
it until my lips swell to the size of Angelina Jolie's. It sucks
because I love the taste of melon, but I have no self-control when
I'm around it.
In life, I'm an easy going, laid back
person. I'm quiet. I rarely talk about myself. I'm observant. I'm
a good listener. I don't often get upset. In relationships I rarely
fight, unless pushed. If I fight back (yelling or crying), you know
you've screwed up. I've been called indifferent. It's not that I'm
indifferent, some battles are not worth fighting.
I don't often talk about my mother.
She and I never had a great relationship. There was never that
mother daughter bonding moment that made me feel like we were best
friends. I felt she was incredibly selfish. She constantly lied to
me. She constantly broke promises. I'd asked her once how she could
have left her children. She had no answer outside of “Don't you
understand?”. How is a teenager supposed to understand? I
wouldn't have asked the question if I understood.
I went through years of sporadically
seeing her.
Fourth of July, my favorite holiday,
and she wanted to spend the evening shooting off fireworks. I was
apprehensive, but she assured me she wanted to spend the entire
evening hanging out with her children. At this point, I had already
graduated high school; I was going to college and working full-time.
We were open on the 4th - I had just gotten off work. I just walked
in the door. She gave me a hug, and then told me she was leaving.
I'd had it. I let her have it. I yelled at her. I told her exactly
how I felt about her. As she was leaving, I told her I hated her and
never wanted to see her again. She died the next day. Car accident.
She hit the median, flipped her car, the seatbelt broke her neck.
Alcohol was present in her bloodstream.
I don't regret fighting with her, or
telling her how I felt. She needed to hear how her actions were
affecting me, but she was still my mother, and her death left me with
these unresolved feelings.
I think it's admirable to acknowledge
one’s own weaknesses, it shows confidence. I tend to own my
strengths, and I often talk about being positive, but rarely do I
share my weaknesses. It's not a judgment thing. I am not afraid of
how others will perceive me. I think that most people would rather
know the good parts about my character, but we are all made up of
strengths and weaknesses.
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