It’s not talked about a lot just how awful it is being a picky eater. People like to poke fun at picky eaters but I don’t want to physically recoil and cringe if the texture changes mid bite because of a chunk of tomato. No, I don’t enjoy having severely limited options because of texture. No, I don’t enjoy having to pick the mushrooms off my pizza. No, I don’t enjoy needing to ask for chicken tenders or a burger with just cheese because that’s all I know will be okay for me to eat.
It’s even worse when you work with non-picky eaters. Oh, yeah, let’s go out to dinner! Oh, you want to go to a Mexican restaurant? Oh, okay. Then I guess I will rely on chips and queso because I can’t stand the texture of beans, oh, and flour tortillas make me nauseated. Oh, a Greek restaurant? Oh, okay. I guess I’ll hope this chicken won’t upset my stomach. Oh, there’s no appetizers I could order as my meal either. Great.
That’s not to mention the embarrassment of it. The having to explain yourself. That, yes, I am a picky eater. Textures make me physically cringe and I’m unable to force myself to swallow the food. Or the lying of, no, I’m just not very hungry today. No, I’m okay. I promise.
Or explaining the things you like conditionally both because of taste and texture. Yeah I like fish, but it can’t be THAT kind of fish because it’s too fishy. Yeah I love spaghetti, but not that spaghetti because the sauce is chunky. Yeah I love chicken, but not that kind of chicken because my stomach doesn’t agree with it. Yeah I love pizza, but not from this specific place because their sauce SOMEHOW has chunks.
It sucks. I want to enjoy food. I want to try new things. I want to be able to enjoy going out to eat with people outside of my family. But it’s stressful and it makes me feel ridiculous even when I know I can’t help it.
