Picky Eaters

Picky eaters are annoying. So are people who won't eat things they don't know. I eat almost everything, and the things I don't eat are things that I have very good reasons for not eating. Needless to say, there is rarely a time that I can't find something on a menu to eat. But it seems that the people around me (mostly women) have to have something to pick off their plate or scrape off their steak, even if they have no idea what it will taste like. This drives me crazy. Because these are the people that never order anything besides chicken, salmon, and steak done to a leathery medium well. They have no idea how much they are missing, but the seemingly compulsive need to be special is too overwhelming to tempt them into something a little different.

These women seem to think that their diet is a direct reflection on what kind of person they are. (and perhaps it is) That if they aren't giving the waiter a litany of special instructions to make their chicken as bland as possible, they will be seen as undiscriminating or unrefined or lazy or gluttonous or something. I suppose that is how I got the pseudo-reputation I have. Because there is very little I won't at least try. I may not like everything, but I will at least try it. So I'm the pig. The glutton. The garbage disposal for all the food that isn't good enough for you.

And the rub is this: their careful diets get them nowhere. And they whine and moan about how skinny I am when I eat everything I want. It's genetic. But more than that, there's a piece of me that doesn't really care about the weight, it cares about eating good food. Life is a waste without it. But so few people would agree with me.