I've never been a picky eater. If you handed me a plate, I'd eat whatever was on it. Except mussels which I'm allergic to, or pickled pig's feet. (I'd have to guess that if I were in one of my exuberant moods and someone I really liked handed me unpickled pig's feet, I probably would've eaten them).
Anyway, in my normal life, I've always been an open eater and a big slob, the total opposite of OCD.
Getting sick changes all this for me.
I buy two bottles of hand sanitizer, one to carry around, one for my bathroom at home.
I'm terrified of lettuce, tomatoes, ice, and even ice cream.
Back home I was the kind of person who had to steel my nerves to send back a dish at a restaurant.
Not anymore.
Cook's feelings be damned, I am now guarding my stomach with a paranoia so irrational that it borders on....right-wing patriotism.
I'm a gut-nut.
A one-woman-intestinal-militia.
If someone tries to hand me anything green or salad-like, this Sergeant Slaughter voice in my brain grumbles, "Nothing's getting in here but cookies, motherfucker."
Finally, I have a great excuse to eat nothing but processed, pre-packaged junk food.
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