Taking A Stand: Don’t make my eating a sideshow
You know there’s a real problem when a man can’t eat like he wants without being harassed by the rest of the “normal” world.
I’m one of those people who eat one thing at a time. You know, one of those freaks who doesn’t know how to eat right. If I’m eating a burger and fries, I’ll eat all the fries first and then the burger. If I’m having barbecue and beans, I’ll eat all my beans first and then eat the barbecue. Hey, sometimes I’m so separatist that I won’t even take a sip of my drink until my meal is finished.
I do this because I enjoy eating one thing at a time. There’s no deep dark secret behind my method of eating, I just do it that way as do many other people.
While I personally find nothing wrong with this style of eating, it seems to disturb many people around me to the point they try to indoctrinate me into the “normal” style of eating. I mean it’s almost like they become missionaries ministering to the aborigine people in the Australian outback, trying to convert me to see the light and change to normal eating. I can tell it in their eyes that they are boggled by my method of eating.
However, I’m unsure why this fascination turns to an unchecked desire to convert me from being a separate eater. Hey, it’s almost creepy sometimes, the way some folks will stop eating and try to convert me. It reminds me of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” as I fear these food-mixing zealots will put a pod under my bed if I don’t join their Borg-like collective.
I mean, this attempt to convert has gone back to my childhood. Even then I was a separatist as I hated to let my food mix on the plate. This is probably one of the reasons I eat one thing at a time, so things don’t mix on my plate.
“You know it all goes down the same way,” my mother would say, noting it was silly that I didn’t want my food to touch on my plate.
“Yeah, it may go down the same way, but at least I don’t have to see it when it mixes,” I’d respond.
And then there was the peer pressure of birthday parties growing up. As a separatist, I don’t like mixing cake and ice cream. However, some people see my dislike of cake and ice cream together as downright un-American.
“How can you not like cake and ice cream,” they’d say. “That just ain’t right.”
My response was always quick and to the point as I hated having my patriotism questioned over some stupid junk food.
“I don’t like my hots mixing with my colds or my wets mixing with my dries,” I’d explain. “Just let me eat my ice cream before it melts, and then, and only then, I’ll eat my cake.”
My separatist position also means I don’t believe in having tomatoes on a sandwich seeing you’ve got a wet in what otherwise is a dry sandwich. Plus, the tomato makes the bun all damp and there’s nothing worse than a wet bun. You hand me a wet bun and I ain’t eating it.
Hey, if people want to turn my lunch into a side-show, so be it. Let them stare at the freak who eats his food separately. Just so long as they don’t bother me with their propaganda about how people are supposed to eat, we’ll be OK. Come on, I’m 39. If I was going to grow out of this, I would have already. Just leave us freaks alone and let us eat. The rest of you can put your meal in a blender and make a chunky drink out of it for all I care.
Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or by e-mail at [email protected].