When I was a kid I used to be a very picky eater. I mean really, really picky. I didn't like onions, bell peppers (for some reason I thought they were hot - hence the word 'pepper' - and no one could convince me otherwise) shrimp, fish, (except tuna from a can) salsa, hot sauce ... oh, the list goes on and on and on.
Everywhere we went, my mom was asked to modify my food order. (I was the daughter of a single, working parent. We oftentimes found ourselves swinging through a fast food joint on our way to dance class, skating practice, art lessons ... you get the idea.) Mild bean burrito, no onion. Cheeseburger, no tomato, no mustard, no onion. Yes. We were those customers.
If it makes you feel any better, years later I gave birth to a little girl who happened to be just like me. No ... I take that back. Maya was worse than I was if you can believe it. For many years the only thing she would eat was macaroni and cheese, Ramen noodles and chicken nuggets. It's true what they say; what goes around comes around.
I outgrew my pickiness. (Maya - not so much.) There is still one food I will not eat, though.
Don't tell me how beautiful they are. I don't care that you eat them just like apples. I don't want to know how tasty you believe them to be. If they're raw, you can have them. I don't want anything to do with them.
I have nothing against cooked tomatoes. I love spaghetti sauce, chili, ketchup ... you name it. I like it. Yes, the mighty tomato is awesome. As long as it's cooked.
It's a texture thing. It's grainy, slimy, seedy and chewy ... all at once.
Ick. Nope. Not for me. I can't get past all that.
You'll be happy to know that I don't special order food now that I'm a grown up. I've waited tables. I know how damn annoying that can be. Now I smile, order that burger ... then quietly pull that slice of raw tomato from beneath the bun before happily enjoying my lunch.