Guess who's fucked?
I admit it: I have weird eating habits. I'm not as picky as I once was (although I haven't gone as far as eating bacon chocolate or stewed caribou dork), but as far back as I can remember I have always been a very finicky eater.
I remember that it used to frustate Mama Pool to no end; at one point she decided that she was going to play hardball with me and force me to eat a slice of ham. When I refused to eat it for dinner, I went to bed hungry and found it on my plate for breakfast the next morning. I stubbornly refused to eat it then as well, so I remained hungry until (guess what?) she served it to me for lunch. At this point, the ham had taken on a rather slimy sheen, so it would have been unappetizing to even the most hardcore pork enthusiast. I understandably said no and again found myself leaving the table without having eaten. This went on into the next day when, hovering on the brink of malnutrition, I looked up at my mother and asked imploringly, "Why are you doing this to me?" At this point Mama Pool cracked harder than Humpty Dumpty getting run over by an 18-wheeler and gave me my Triscuits with peanut butter.
This is just one of the reasons why, of all the Vandersibs, I was the one who bore the brunt of the Offspring Curse. You probably know what I'm talking about; mothers everywhere have been using it for millenia as a way of venting their frustration, expressing their anger or seeking vengeance. You've probably been the subject of the curse yourself. It goes a little something like this: I hope that one day you have a child who does to you exactly what you're doing to me right now. [shudder]
As if the Offspring Curse weren't bad enough, Eric kindly pointed out that there's a very good chance that The Hybrid will inherit my unique eating habits genetically. Like I needed another reason to wake up in a cold sweat. Yet another reason to blame Eric.
I remember that it used to frustate Mama Pool to no end; at one point she decided that she was going to play hardball with me and force me to eat a slice of ham. When I refused to eat it for dinner, I went to bed hungry and found it on my plate for breakfast the next morning. I stubbornly refused to eat it then as well, so I remained hungry until (guess what?) she served it to me for lunch. At this point, the ham had taken on a rather slimy sheen, so it would have been unappetizing to even the most hardcore pork enthusiast. I understandably said no and again found myself leaving the table without having eaten. This went on into the next day when, hovering on the brink of malnutrition, I looked up at my mother and asked imploringly, "Why are you doing this to me?" At this point Mama Pool cracked harder than Humpty Dumpty getting run over by an 18-wheeler and gave me my Triscuits with peanut butter.
This is just one of the reasons why, of all the Vandersibs, I was the one who bore the brunt of the Offspring Curse. You probably know what I'm talking about; mothers everywhere have been using it for millenia as a way of venting their frustration, expressing their anger or seeking vengeance. You've probably been the subject of the curse yourself. It goes a little something like this: I hope that one day you have a child who does to you exactly what you're doing to me right now. [shudder]
As if the Offspring Curse weren't bad enough, Eric kindly pointed out that there's a very good chance that The Hybrid will inherit my unique eating habits genetically. Like I needed another reason to wake up in a cold sweat. Yet another reason to blame Eric.
7 comments:
Weird is not the word for you my friend. I wish weird were the word. But your problems go much, much deeper than that. I, on the other hand, am the epitomy of normal. I was an angel child. A mother's dream. So our child is not completely shit out of luck.
I sure do remember those days ... I would go over to play with Lee after school - just like every other day of the week and our after school snack would be peanut butter and triscuits. To this day I HATE peanut butter! I think I just had wayyyyy too much of it as a kid!
There is no such thing as too much peanut butter. I'm pretty sure that I could eat a glass-encrusted shank of rabid skunk roadkill if it had enough peanut butter on it.
If it's any comfort, Lee, remember that despite your extreme pickiness as a child and the occasional odd sweet-salty choice of food today, you have come an incredibly long way in your eating habits. So, at worst, the Hybrid will be a pain for a little while, and then she'll eat just about anything.
That is, unless I'm missing something about your current eating habits.
Also, now that you've shared the Mom and ham vs. Lee story, you should share the Nanya and steak vs. Lee story.
His eating habits have evolved into different forms of weirdness.
You know what? I thought about you two today on my way into work. I stopped at a drive-through bagel/coffee spot and was cravin' peanut butter so I got that on my bagel. Only - the bagel was so damned burned black (and hot) that the peanut butter was melting all over the place in my car. And I thought to myself -- who the hell likes burnt bagels with peanut butter? I should just throw this out. Then I thought..."if only there were a way to beam this to Lee in Paris. But Pegs might not like that."
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