Cindy's World

I don’t understand why some people are so interested in what I eat, or rather, don’t eat. When I was young I could understand my mother taking an interest in what I ate, after all, the woman was feeding me since before I arrived in this world. If I didn’t like what she made for dinner – to bad. I had to eat my dinner to get dessert. Why, sometimes I’d be eating dessert at two in the morning.

What I have a beef with are adults who feel it’s their right to question my eating habits.

I was at a luncheon, seated next to a woman, who looked at my plate and noticed unfinished food. She badgered me with questions, till the truth spilled onto my plate with the unwanted peas. “You going to finish that?” “No. I’m not.” Why not?” “Because I don’t want to?” “But, it’s delicious. I loved mine.” “Good for you.” “So, you’re just going to let it sit there?” “That’s the plan.” “But our hostess might get upset if you don’t finish it.” “Only if you tell her.” “Oh, be a sport. Surely you can eat it. Why don’t you like it?” “Because I don’t like peas! I hate peas and anything with peas. You happy now? There I said it! Now leave me alone!” And with that – the hostess got upset. It wouldn’t have been so bad if my husband was next to me so I could have slid the peas discreetly onto his plate. As I’ve said before, my husband is my own personal Mikey. He’ll eat anything.

Although, this weekend we were at a friend’s house for dinner and another guest saw me slide my plate of peach cobbler in front of my husband. I was trying to be polite and discreet, but this girl would have none of that. And so, the badgering started. “I saw what you did.” “Ok.” “You don’t want to eat that?” “No.” “Why not?” “Because.” “Because you didn’t like it? I loved mine. How could you not like it?” “Crazy I guess.” “What didn’t you like about it, the peaches or the cobbler part? You could be honest and tell me what you don’t like.” “I don’t like you at this very minute. You’re not my mother. Get off my back.”

These women possessed the mother gene for guilt. But, luckily for me, now that I’m an adult, I went home and had my cake, all before 2 A.M.