Miss Iron Stomach Admits Defeat

Today I realized that there are just some foods (and drinks!) I DO NOT LIKE. I've been in denial, and in fact keep right on trying to eat/drink them even though it's a grueling chore. I think it's my pride. I wouldn't want to mar my little "eat everything on your plate" identity. It used to be the "picky eater" identity, that is, I insisted that chicken and eggs made me feel crummy. Well, they did, at the time. But it might have been largely psychological. Nowadays, perhaps dating from the missions trip to Hong Kong where I discovered I could probably out-experiment anybody trying chicken feet and all that good stuff, I make a point of eating whatever interesting comestibles come my way. I sort of consider it a sight seeing/educational experience.

But ok, I have my limits. Today I discovered, once and for all, that one of those limits is orange juice. Ugh. I needed a quick energy boost this afternoon, and I thought "Juice!" (I usually don't drink juice at all, and we don't normally keep it around. We're a milk family, mostly.) Since Mattie was sick, we had both apple and orange on hand. I thought that orange juice sounded more peppy and potassiumy and all that good stuff, so, even though I don't particularly like orange juice, I poured up a big glass. Then I spent the next five minutes gulping unreasonable quantities of it down at few-second intervals, trying not to feel it or taste it! Not only was I so cold that my fingernails were turning blue, and the juice was fresh out of the fridge, but the juice itself rolled down like battery acid and bored a frozen hole in my unsuspecting gut. Poor little tummy, it just didn't know what hit it. I'm happy to say that there were no unseemly eruptions, but it finally dawned on me-- I really don't like orange juice. Or soda water (by itself). Or raw cauliflower. Or sushi.

Once and for all, Miss Iron Stomach admits defeat.