My Boring Life

As stated in comments from the previous post, I was going to tell you a bit about my boring life, which, for the most part, does revolve around food, but the post grew too long. So instead have decided to break it up into segments, a series of anecdotes, so to speak, that will be titled, for lack of a better idea, My Boring Life.


I Hate Peas

Dad sets at the head of the table and likes to watch The Porter Wagner Show while he eats. I am in the first grade, home alone with my father, eating supper, which includes a giant helping of stinky, mushy, grayish, canned peas. Peas repulse me. I am not allowed to get up from the table until I eat the peas. Thus the battle ensues. I squinch my face and try feeding them to the dog, but Dad catches me and throws the dog out.

Slowly the minutes tick by, I set at the table with my feet dangling. Dad sets in his arm chair, like a despot on his throne. He seems taller. I am getting bored with this standoff, but the more my father presses, the more repulsive the peas seem to become. By now, they are not only mushy and stinky, but cold, as well, and there is no way in hell I am eating those peas.

Its seems like we've been setting here for hours. Dad is cajoling, threatening, even bribing me to eat the damn peas. But I am obstinate as ever, and never realized vegetables wielded such power.

Now I have no memory of how the ordeal ended, but I think it was with my dad in exasperation, because I never ate a single pea, and he never asked me to eat another food again.

Occasionally, at family reunions, Dad says, Michelle, have you eaten any peas? And I calmly respond, No dad, I won that battle.