Don’t Be Picky

9 Nov

Having not eaten for literally 24 hours, my stomach was twisting and turning like a circus monkey. I was spending my fifteenth straight hour in solitude and darkness, part of an outward bound program that I took part in. I held a can of sausages in my frozen hands. I’m not a huge fan of sausages, but when you’re starving, you do what you need to do. Grabbing the first bite of food of the entire day, this brought back one of my first memories of my childhood.

I was around 5, pretty much as far back as I can remember. I had the life that all kids wanted: free of worries, comfortable, exciting and fun. Because my parents were working and were rarely home, I lived an extremely privileged life. The nanny, one of the two in our family, would prepare what I wanted to eat at whatever time I wanted. If it wasn’t cooked well it would be cooked again. My parents didn’t really know what happened at home so I was able to make such orders and get away with it. One day, we were at a party and I did not like any of the food there. I distinctly remember my parents tried to force me to eat canned sausages but I absolutely refused. Trying to teach me a lesson, my dad told me, “someday, when you’re starving and that’s the only thing left you have to eat, you won’t even complain a single word.” I simply smiled and disregarded him.

This really had come back to bite me. My dad was indeed right. Fourteen years later, I no longer take the privileges I have for granted. I eat whatever is given to me, no questions asked.


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