I'll Order Off the Kid's Menu

…..Are you familiar with the impending doom of potentially dying from malnutrition?

…..Don’t worry, I’m not actually on the cusp of death, my Grandma just thinks that I am. 

…..I’ve been a chronically picky eater since I learned the word “no.” There are a couple of theories to suggest why I am this way; for a long time, the most popular belief was that it was my Dad’s fault. As a man who cherished his meal times and despised wasting food, he insisted that it was easier to feed me something that I’d tolerate during dinner rather than listening to me wail over a few peas. And he wasn’t wrong, because I happily ate my dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and french fries without causing a disturbance. But the problem arose when chicken nuggets and french fries were all I wanted to eat for dinner. Nearly every night. For several years.  

…..Don’t get the wrong impression of me, though. I swear that I ate more than nuggets and fries. My diet included (and still includes) a variety of different fruits and vegetables that keep me from keeling over. It’s not uncommon to find me wolfing down an apple or a handful of grapes. I’ll stomach bacon and peanut butter as acceptable forms of protein but all iterations of beef can piss off as far as I’m concerned. Fish too, for that matter. Trust me when I say that you’ll never find me inside of a Benihana unless it’s against my will. That just about sums up my eating habits, save for Italian foods like spaghetti and pizza (except the spaghetti can only have red sauce and the pizza can’t have any toppings, including the cheese).  

…..I feel like there’s a common misconception that picky eaters choose to be this way. I can’t speak for every stubborn seven-year-old on Earth, but I know that I don’t do it on purpose. In the last 21 years, I’ve dedicated an inordinate amount of time to thinking about what life would be like if my palette was as open as my mind. I imagine all of the places I could travel to, the new restaurants I could try, or the people I could please by tasting their homemade cuisine. I often daydream about how my mom’s chilaquiles might taste or what the texture of fresh spring rolls is like. But when faced with an opportunity to try something new, I freeze up like a deer in a semi truck’s headlights. Irrational, debilitating panic fills the container of my being until my stomach binds and constricts itself into strict knots that are incapable of allowing anything to pass. Sweat builds on my brow and my hands subtly shake. All this over half of a spoonful of fried rice from Panda Express.  

…..When I was younger, an older cousin of mine encouragingly informed me that one day I’d simply grow out of this pickiness. For a while after that, I used to wait for the day that I’d wake up and suddenly decide that lobster thermidor sounded appetizing. It took me a while to realize that the likelihood of that day arriving was minuscule. It took me even longer to learn about Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder, or ARFID, a type of eating disorder that causes people to become severely restrictive eaters due to low interest in food, sensory issues, or fears of choking. Something that I likely have and will likely deal with for many years to come.  

…..That’s not to say that I’ve given up hope of achieving a well-rounded diet, but I feel that I’m more realistic with my expectations now. I know that the odds of me being completely unimpaired by my picky eating habits are low. But I hope that one day when I’m older and have children of my own, I can make one meal for the entire family to enjoy instead of having to make a bowl of spaghetti for myself. I hope that I can go to a restaurant and order off the regular menu with the other adults instead of pleading with the server to allow me to eat off the kids menu. I hope that I can travel to Japan or Mexico and experience some of the authentic meals that they have to offer. I want to try curry and pho and fajitas and arepas and fufu with Gbegiri soup. And maybe I’m just having a moment of unadulterated optimism, but I truly do think that I’ll be able to live like that in the future. 

…..So where do you come in, dear reader? What should you take away from the ramblings of a grown woman who still eats like a child? What I hope is that you’ll be kinder to the picky eaters in your life. Don’t tell your young niece or nephew that they won’t grow big and strong if they don’t eat their Christmas ham, chances are that they will and all you’re doing is scaring/embarrassing them. Try not to make fun of your friends when they express their distaste for all things seafood. I can assure you that anyone who carries their pickiness into adulthood already harbors enough shame about their condition to cover for both of you. Oh, and for the love of God, please don’t tell a picky eater to “just try something new.”