High maintenance


I’ve started to accept that I am high maintenance. I consider myself to be very easy going. But I think I’m also high maintenance, which is weird. I am particularly high maintenance when it comes to food.

For example:

  • I don’t like to drink milk. I only like skim milk on my cereal, and unless it was something like Cocoa Pebbles, I’m not going to drink the milk after I eat my cereal. This also carries over into cocktails, I do not enjoy a cocktail with any kind of cream. The only way I drink milk is in a latte. Decaf, or I’ll get a stomach ache or migraine.
  • I have issues with meat. I don’t like to be reminded that it was once alive, by things like chunks of fat or skin or bones. So I like my buffalo wings to be boneless. I really only cook boneless, skinless chicken breasts. I steer clear of red meat in general. My sister has always compared me eating red meat to a doctor performing surgery. I also stay away from most pork. I’ll eat bacon, but only if it’s super crispy. Fish is good, but I can’t stand any bones. The one super glaring exception to this would be crab & shrimp. I am just fine peeling shrimp and cracking crab.  Or lobster. Other than that, you won’t find me gnawing on a turkey leg at the Renaissance Festival.
  • I don’t like beans. They are pasty and gross. I like my chili to be beanless. No beans and rice. No refried bean nastiness with my tacos. Glaring exception: I totally dig hummus.
  • My food can’t touch. I can’t tell you how many trips through a potluck line I had to take growing up. It wasn’t a good idea to have jello on the plate with hot things.
  • Nuts. Nothing ruins a cookie or brownie faster than a walnut. Or a pecan. I tolerate peanuts and almonds. Not almond extract or flavoring. But I really love peanut butter.
  • I don’t like whipped cream. I like cool whip, but not for real whipped cream. Or that crazy whipped “better creme” frosting nonsense. Give me the butter & lard filled sugar crunch of real frosting any day.
  • Also, no fruit and meat. No ham covered in pineapples. No porkchops with apples. No Hawaiian pizza. I did have a delicious sandwich with chicken, brie and apple the other day, but I think the difference was that the apple wasn’t cooked. It still tasted and felt like eating an apple.

So…now that I write it all out…that’s a little embarrassing. Worse than I thought. And I’m pretty sure no one will ever invite me to dinner again.


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