Chronicles Of A Picky Eater
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Chronicles Of A Picky Eater

All my life I was told that I would grow out of my picky eating habits. Being 19 years old in college does not lend itself well to someone who would rather eat off the kids menu than at an up-scale restaurant.

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Chronicles Of A Picky Eater

Ordering off the Kid’s Menu is all too familiar. The selection is just perfect: grilled cheese, chicken fingers and mac & cheese … what more could you ask for?

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Being made fun of is also something commonly encountered. Yes, I understand that these food options are targeted at those age 12 and younger, but that will not change my choice.

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Friends have to double-triple check with you to make sure that there is something you will eat, before announcing to the rest of the group where dinner will be held.

The initial scan of the menu is petrifying. When you see that your go-to meal isn’t listed, the familiar panic sets in.

Waiters and waitresses probably think I am interrogating them - but no, I just want to make sure my food comes out right. I am prepared to ask about the exact order in which my meal is constructed, because you know that if something is the slightest bit off, I won’t hesitate to send it back.

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That being said, I easily annoy restaurant staff. They get frustrated when I remove more than half the ingredients from my dish, yet somehow oblige anyway.

When I don’t get exactly what I specified, I freak out. I can’t help it, I like what I like and I hate everything else.

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Everyone I have ever met in my life has attempted to get me to try a new food. I can’t even elaborate how many times I’ve been told “Just try it, you’ll like it I swear.” No, I will not try that, and there is nothing that you can tell me that will make me want to.

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I am petrified of being asked to go over someone’s house for dinner. This means being forced into eating unknown foods, and pretending to like it. These types of situations are the reasons I can’t sleep at night.

The amount of times I spit food into my napkin is unbearable. Childish, I know, but there is nothing worse than imagining something to taste amazing and finding that it is actually disgusting.

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Yes, I eat at the same places multiple times a week. I have mastered the rotation. I have a salad for lunch three days of the week, and for dinner four. When I’m not eating salad, it’s almost always a carefully crafted wrap. Once in a while I’ll throw in the occasional plain-cheese quesadilla from Chipotle, but that’s about as far as I’ll branch out.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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