growing up i never knew that i was hella picky because i ate food with sauces and things with ~weird flavours like vinegar and curry powder and cardamom and fancy mustards.
then i went to an ex-boyfriends house and “”totally humiliated him”” by taking one bite of my pork chop, a food that at my 22 years of age was new to me, and i quickly decided it was definitely not for me and i would stick to the sides (corn and applesauce.) It’s not like i would starve to death for the remaining 90 minutes we were there or for the 50 minute drive home fer godssakes, idk what he was so worried about
or the time that i went to MFA’s house and they served some sort of baked breakfast egg dish that had cottage cheese (another food i had no intention of eating ever) and the little stringy bits of egg, the chalaza, were also baked in.
i about barfed
and don’t even get me started on the infamous Chicken Rice and Broccoli Dinner.
Anyway, the other day i was getting out some spicy chik’n patties from the freezer and some english muffins from the cupboard and then the cheese and mayonesa from the fridge and was doin’ a little dance thinking about which flavours would go well and how nice a little bit of spinach would be added to it, and i realised, like hey, feeding yourself can actually be sort of ok when every circumstance of your life is different than before and your fridge and freezer actually have things that you want to chew up and eat and you have a clean properly-equipped kitchen to use. and not living in a constant yet unknown to myself state of tension, anxiety, and fear has also been very helpful, as those’ll also really mess up your digestive track.
AND turns out i’m an autistic anxiety riddled mess and have a lot of texture issues with food as well (is anyone else a yoghurt chewer with me?)
and that i really love sandwiches.
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