In Praise of Vegetables. No, Seriously.

I had a conversation with my mother the other day.  It was about my dinner a few days previous.

"Hey, guess what?" I asked with great anticipation. "The other night, I made chicken fajitas and they actually had MORE peppers and onions than chicken.  And I ATE them.  I didn't pick them out or ANYTHING."  I told my mother this with all the excitement of a four year old who has just tied her shoes for the first time.

It's kind of a big deal.

Many people will blame weight problems on a love of food.  Not me, however.  For years my issue was strictly one in which I hated most foods.  And the ones I did enjoy tended to be rather.. hrm.. how should I put it?

Nutrionally void.

Hot Dogs.  Zoodles.  Grilled Cheese Sandwiches.  Kraft Dinner.  Pizza Pops.

I ate some fruits, mainly bananas, strawberries and grapes.  On occasion.  Maybe.

My mom and I have discussed my eating habits and she admits that she could have been more adamant about not giving into my fussiness.  But in fairness to her, she was raised in a you-are-not-leaving-this-table-until-your-plate-is-clean-young-lady-I-don't-care-if-you-don't-like-it type home and remembered mealtimes being horrible.  So she wanted to spare me all that.

Plus, I was a gagger.

I didn't realize how much my gag reflex must have played into my mom's need to cave until I had kids of my own.  The first time my youngest child gagged on something I was insisting she at least try before declaring it gross, I found it absolutely infuriating and like a light bulb being switched on, my mother's actions made sense to me:

I get it now! It was either make something else, or strangle me!

Really.  I don't know what it is about the sound of kids gagging on food that is so rage-inducing, but wow. 0 to Incredible Hulk before you can say "Finebutyou'renotgettinganythingelsekid"

I'd be lying if I didn't think my lack of nutrition didn't actively contribute to some of my health concerns down the road.  But damn if it isn't hard to eat healthy if all those things deemed healthy make you want to die inside, just a little.  Once I hit high school and beyond, I was well out of my parents authority in regards to my eating habits.  Just so you don't think they didn't EVER try to get good food into me.  They did, but I imagine it wasn't worth the frustration or the possible visits from the Children's Aid Society (see: gagging).

Once I was making all my own food decisions I lived off of what Drew Barrymore once referred to as a 'White Trash Diet'.  Added to the list was any kind of fast food, triple-decker peanut butter sandwiches and Cheeze Whiz and toast.  Dear Gord, Cheeze Whiz.  Is there not a more frightening concoction?  I could go through a loaf of Wonder Bread and a jar of processed cheeze - because you know, anything spelled with a 'Z' has GOT to be good for you - in the period of a few days.

No wonder my colon eventually cried 'Enough!' by way of bleeding for months on end.  More on that another day, though.

Not sure when I decided to actually start trying things again, but I believe it was a few months before I really got serious about my weight loss efforts.  I do recall sitting in a mall food court in Toronto with my friend Sammi.  She had a small tray of sushi, while I had my requisite slice of pepperoni pizza.  Somehow, some way Sammi convinced me to try a piece of her sushi.  It was a revelation.

Okay, it was tolerable.  But it was a start.  A few weeks later we went to an all-you-can-eat sushi place closer to home, where I could sample different types of sushi and I fell in love.  I thought to myself.. if I can love sushi, then maybe there are other things I've been missing out on.. other things that I should give a chance.

Slowly, but surely, I've been adding new foods to my repertoire.  I had my first eggs at the tender age of 27.  I'm now in love with egg sandwiches.  Salad is another thing I'm slowly getting used to.  I love a good Caesar, and can handle a lot of other salads.  I learned I love raw spinach.  The green and red peppers in last week's fajitas were a major triumph for me.  So is not picking the tomato chunks out of my spaghetti sauce.

A year or so ago I realized that maybe my picky days were over when a guy I was dating offered to make me dinner.  I warned him of my pickiness, then felt silly when none of the options he presented really sounded that bad.  I guess wasn't as picky as I thought.  (FYI, we ended up having chicken masala that night).

There are still things that I turn my nose up at.. the "brocollis and 'sparegrasses" as my dad likes to put it... but slowly I am learning to embrace the opportunity to try new things.