Growing up, I was always told to eat what was on my plate. Food, according to my parents was a gift to have and as such, I should eat what ever I was served. After all, people in India were starving.
Now to be honest, when I was 5 or 6, I didn’t know that people in India were starving so I really didn’t care. When I would say, ” Can I just package it up and send it to India then,” my parents didn’t seem to share the same enthusiasm.
It seemed that many times my parents and I never saw eye to eye. Well, OK, that’s because my dad was 6′ 4 and my mom was 5′ 10, but still and all, we just couldn’t seem to come to an agreement with the food that was cooked, and the food I would eat.
I had absolutely no problem eating as many french fries as she could cook. My bug a boos were the yucky foods like liver and onions. The truth is, I didn’t know if my mom was a bad cook or if it was just me who didn’t like eating meat as tough as Mohammad Ali. Shoot, I even wondered if the people in India would eat it. Needless to say, my dog Bowser seemed to be licking his chops a lot when my parents weren’t looking.
Then, there were vegetables, please, how can you expect kids to eat vegetables. My mom used to serve endive which tasted like bitter cat poop, or brussel sprouts. OMG, gag me with a spoon. These sprout things I swear were like eating testicles with BO, not that I have ever eaten testicles which had BO, it just sort of conjured up that smell and image.
Last on the menu was deer meat. My dad was an avid hunter, and each year he would come home which seemed to be a 4000 lb. deer. I say this because we would be eating every kind of deer meat you could possibly think of, forever. Deer burgers, deer stew, deer sausage, deer rump roast, Hell, I’m surprised my mom never figured out how to add milk with it or we would have had deer cereal.
Of course, today, I pretty eat everything that is on my plate. My daughter and I just love french fries. Have a nice evening every one.