I don't like food. There. I said it. Now it's out there.
I believe there will be some who read this and accuse me of being anti-American or from another planet or something. I've asked around, and this just isn't one of those things that makes people around me say, "Me, too." This is weird. It's just not right.
And I agree. It's not right. In fact, it kind of sucks.
It seems that food and I have a different relationship than just about everyone else on the planet. I listen to people talk about food. They oooh and aaah like it's magic. Like it casts some kind of spell on them. I watch people at restaurants, struggling to choose something because it all looks so good.
I envy that.
I look at the menu and spend a good ten minutes trying to find something I can eat. Something I might enjoy.
Sometimes I can eat food just like normal people. I get hungry, I get something to eat, the taste is pleasing, I am filled. But that's rare. And even when things go well I don't seem to be getting the same pleasure from it that others do. It's not a glorious experience for me. The food was good. Now I'm not hungry. That's about it.
And other times, if I think about it too much, I can't really eat more than a few bites. I'm not a big fan of the process of eating. I can be chewing along, eating my meal, and then I think about what I'm doing. I pay attention to the food in my mouth. And I gag. I'm done. No more food for me.
I go hungry a lot.
It's not uncommon for me to realize it's four in the afternoon and I haven't eaten anything that day. My body doesn't like that. I often eat medicinally. I usually eat because it's necessary to sustain my body and because my headache gets worse if I don't. My life would be much simpler if eating weren't required.
I've seen people look at cook books like they are food porn, drooling and desiring. That's just never been me.
So please understand if I don't eat what you offer me. It's not a statement on your cooking. Chances are it's just not a good eating day for me.
I know it's strange. I've come to accept the fact that I'll never be like other people in this way. Food and I will never have that kind of relationship, that seductive romance that I watch others experience.
I'm strange and that's okay.
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To read more about my food issues, go here.
To read more about my resulting psychiatrist visit, go here.