“I. Don’t. Like. It”

“Well you’re going to sit there until you eat all of it.”

“I’m not eating it.”

“Then you can sit there all night.”

This was the constant struggle between me and my mother throughout my childhood. Tonight, it was the Battle of the Dry, Chewy, Flavorless Chicken Strips. The threat of spending the evening at the dinner table was merely a soft blow to my barricade of stubbornness. I would sit there all night, sleep on the kitchen table if I had to, but I would not put that sorry excuse for food into my mouth. Eventually my dad would take pity on me an hour later and release me from this fate.

Many kids will face a similar battle with their parents over some food they will not dare let pass their lips – for my mother, it was cooked brussel sprouts, and for my dad it was creamed spinach. However, not all children fought this battle at nearly every meal as I did throughout my childhood. My palate was extremely limited, and remains so to this day. My restrictions include: no meat except bacon, only about seven types of vegetables, and I cannot eat raw apples due to an allergy. When people learn that my palate is pickier than the typical five-year-old, the most common question is: “how do you survive?!” This is always said with a tone that implies chicken, not water, is the basis of life on Earth.

While this (shall we say, unique?) characteristic has caused its number of unsatisfying meals and obnoxious questions, it has helped me grow as a person. My picky eating habits have helped me handle social situations easily, especially when it comes to dealing with people asking awkward questions or being downright rude. “But why?! Meat is so good!” is not going to change my taste buds into magically craving a steak or Thanksgiving turkey. After years of practice, I have managed to answer these questions quickly and move on with the conversation. Also, I have become more experienced in defending the choices I make, even those not related to food. Especially as a teenager dealing with the college process and deciding what I want to do with my life, this skill has come in handy quite often. Instead of people looking at me as if I have three heads when I say I dislike steak, they give me the same look when I tell them my goal is to be a teacher. I have heard every comment there is, from “You are going to be so poor” to “Teaching? You’re too smart to settle for that.” Comments similar to the latter are the most aggravating, because if something is my passion, why shouldn’t I pursue it? Choosing a career seems to be pretty far off from being a picky eater, but when it comes to handling how people react to my choices, my childhood challenges have prepared me to become a mature adult. I am ready to defend my beliefs to the end and take on whatever challenges the world throws at me. I just hope it isn’t chicken.