Dear People Who Don't Understand Me,

PSA: I don't eat meat, but I'm not a vegetarian. I will eat a hotdog as long as it's boiled and not grilled. If we're getting pre-packaged bagels, they better not be Thomas'. I'll eat that chicken caprese minus the chicken and basil. No, I am the worst person to go out to eat with. No, I'm not stuck up. Yes, I am a picky eater.

I wasn't always this way. I used to eat whatever was put in front of me because I didn't have a choice. I didn't know how to cook, and at the time, I thought, "Well then you can eat nothing" was a legitimate threat. Now I have the option to be as picky as I please.

The best part of picky eaters (and picky people in general) is we know what we like and dislike. I will never tell you, "I don't care where we go" because I do care. I know that I would rather eat a burrito (minus avocado and pico de gallo) over a salad filled with spinach, onions, and cucumbers (that I will just pick out). I will take a cold bowl of cereal over a perfectly cooked steak any day.

The negative to knowing what I love is refusing to eat the things I hate. Name any vegetable that's not a starch (shoutout to mashed potatoes and corn), and I probably won't even look at it. I'll eat sliced deli meat, but it better be layered in between cheese and bread. I might eat lettuce, but it better be covered in cheese, croutons, and balsamic dressing (the only acceptable dressing). My picky lifestyle has not saved me calories.

I may seem hard to please, but I am actually very easy to feed once you figure me out. I don't need your mixed noodle bowl drenched in mystery sauce, covered in salt, and with peppers mixed in. I would rather take a simple bowl of plain pasta sans butter, sauce, and vegetables. I will take a PB&J (hold the J) over a homemade chicken rotisserie meal any day. I like bland, and I am not ashamed to admit it!

I didn't get this way from not trying anything. I've drank raw egg yolks, chewed squishy jellyfish, and nibbled at the ostrich eggs the dining hall forced us to try freshman year. I didn't get this picky from being boring—these tastes and textures just assured me that I know what I like and how I like it.

My pickiness has made me a selective person in life. Even with clothes, I know what I will wear and what I won't even touch. I can spot an itchy sweater from a mile away. I generally know my taste in men, but hey, everyone has to branch out sometimes.

Some people may say I am a whiny five year old who needs to grow up, but I say why compromise my standards?