I've always been a picky eater, and without a doubt my family would fully support this statement. I was often described as a 'cheap date', I took it as a compliment at the time but now I find one eyebrow raising as many girls, I'm sure, would not like to be described as 'cheap'. But there you have it, if you took me out for a meal I'd order water and probably the plainest meal on the menu. 'Scampi and Chips' or 'Spaghetti Pomodoro' all inexpensive meals. For many years the extent of my drink list was 'water and milk'. On the extension of milk, hot chocolates and milkshakes make my eyes glisten but other than that I avoid other beverages and I especially stay away from fizzy drinks and juices... (although I make exceptions if they are infused with alcohol, but that's for another post another day). if you're slowly building up the picture of my deprived childhood I'll help you pick up the pace. There's no easy way to say it so here goes, I don't like chips. The 'Scampi and Chips' meal I referred to earlier, was always asked for without the chips and baked beans in replacement. I always had one exception, McDonalds skinny chips. I told my mum this was because 'they was raw'. Very odd child. Perhaps it was the layers of salt which hid the slither of 'potato' inside as 'raw' doesn't sound appealing. Either way, I accepted McDonald's chips and strongly rejected the likes of chunky chips.
My surprising change of heart...
Recently, I was tagged in a post on Twitter which my best friend tagged me in a commenting "This is u". This was the tweet and here is the image.
— no (@tbhjuststop) September 8, 2015
Consequently, on the same day I had another incident with the subject of 'chips'. My mum was cooking a meal and she decided to make home made chips. I had a dismal reaction and moaned at my mum about why she would cook me chips when she knows I don't like them. I built up a negative expectation of the meal, accompanied with fish fingers (which I don't like either) and beans, my stomach was prepared for disappointment. I was adamant I would only eat three chips at maximum, so there on my plate I looked down to see my baked beans, bread and three home-cooked chips. No fish fingers on request. I tried a chip first, expecting my taste buds to confirm m suspicions to be true. Two chips later, I felt the warmth of the embarrassment creep up my cheeks as I realised I was about to ask my mum if I could have some more. I was ashamed at how predetermined I'd been to not like the chips. Silently, she moved a few chips across onto my plate, but not without me noticing her small smirk which confirmed in her head that 'mothers know best.'
