So, as most of you already know, I’m a big fan of food and naps. (The fact that I’m not dangerously obese or even overweight is sort of a medical miracle in and of itself… because seriously… those two things are not an ideal combination. But apparently my metabolism is cool with it so… YAY!) The asshat, however, was not. Especially when it came to food.
You know when you have a big occasion coming up – a birthday party, a wedding, Christmas, the Super Bowl, lunchtime… and you get all excited about all the delicious foods you’re going to consume? (C’mon now. I know this doesn’t just happen to me. It’s okay to admit you get excited about food. Food is pretty much God’s way of telling us He loves us.) Yeah. That never happened with him. Ever. It was seriously a major damper on my life.
If it was Monday, and I knew that on Friday we were going out for a delicious steak dinner on Friday for my brother’s birthday? My week was infinitely that much better knowing I had that to look forward to. If it was 7:30 AM, on the worst day of the week and the students were insane… my day was instantly improved by the fact that the PTO had provided donuts and coffee in the lounge for the teachers. My days revolved around food. I’d wake up and look forward to breakfast. After breakfast, I’d look forward to lunch. After lunch, I’d look forward to dinner. After dinner, I was thinking what I could eat the next day and what would work well for dessert. I seriously thought about food all day long. Because food is delicious and awesome and interesting. Heck, I’d talk about food with my friends. Screw gossip and rumors. Let’s talk food, bitches!
(Okay, this is starting to sound like I have a problem. I don’t. I just really like food.)
The problem was, as much of a food lover as I was… the asshat was the total opposite. He never thought about food. He never looked forward to it. His diet was abysmal.
You know how there are “picky eaters” out there? People who are like, “Ew! Flavor! Weird texture! What am I eating? Why doesn’t this taste and feel like white bread! Icky! Ew! Yuck! I only want to eat things that taste like white bread! Where’s my mommy?!” Yeah. He was one of those people. Only he took it to a whole ‘nother level.
For fruits, he would only eat bananas, grapes, watermelon and apples. That’s it. Never a pear. Never strawberries, blueberries, or cherries. Never a peach or a plum. Never a mango, never a slice of lemon or lime in his water. Never a kiwi or some cantaloupe. Never a pomegranate. Not even an orange. He had never even tasted an orange once in his life. Ever. He was afraid to try them. In case they were “icky”.
Vegetables were a whole crapload of issues. He wouldn’t eat lettuce because food shouldn’t crunch. Even though apples crunch… Lettuce was “gross” and the texture was “weird”. So, by association, that also ruled out spinach, celery, and cabbage. Pretty much, any type of vegetable was off limits entirely. Think of a vegetable. Yup, he wouldn’t eat it. Greenbeans, peas, tomatoes, carrots, peppers, onions, cucumbers, beets, broccoli, cauliflower, mushrooms, zucchini… you name it, he wouldn’t eat it. The only veggies I remember him ever eating were corn and potatoes… and those don’t even count because they’re grain and starch. It’s not like he had tried these items before and decided he didn’t like them. He had never even tried them. Mainly because his mom only fed him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches growing up (which he brought with him to work EVERY DAY – and when I say EVERY DAY, I literally mean EVERY DAY because not ONCE did I see him bring anything else for lunch during our 5 years of marriage – I am not kidding) and if there was something he didn’t like for dinner, she’d make him a sandwich. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He was never required to try anything new. He was never required to grow up.
SO… because of his “food issues” making anything of substance was pretty much out of the questions. He didn’t like spaghetti with marinara – it had to be with butter. He didn’t like gravy on potatoes – it had to be butter. He didn’t like anything but meat on pizza. He wouldn’t touch eggs. If I wanted to add onion or garlic to the meal for flavor, I literally had to prepare it in secret and then hide it in the food, and pray he wouldn’t notice, otherwise he wouldn’t eat it. It was maddening. Especially when I loved food SO MUCH! I could never get creative with cooking and I couldn’t even enjoy food because he’s sitting there with his buttered noodles ruining his colon and hardening his arteries.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I went to visit my friends this past weekend and I got to eat – and ENJOY – REAL FOOD – and not have to worry about what he would eat, or what our hosts could or couldn’t prepare because of him. It. Was. Amazing.
I had pizza with fresh basil and sundried tomatoes and MUSHROOMS. I had EGGS! With onion and peppers and mushrooms! I had a BURRITO! WITH ALL THE FIXINS! WHAT THE WHAT?! FOOD?! With FLAVOR AND COLOR AND TEXTURE AND NUTRITIONAL VALUE?! WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?!
Oh wait… that’s normal, regular life. Welcome. They’ve been waiting for you.
So, MAJOR silver lining to this whole thing? I can enjoy food again! Normal, delicious, real-people food.
And it is delicious.