Aight, check this out. When I was a kid, I had a love-hate relationship with food—and by “love-hate,” I mean I hated almost everything that wasn’t tailored to my ridiculously simple taste buds. Most people assume picky eaters avoid vegetables, but not me. I actually liked them! The problem was all the “extras” people kept throwing into meals. Onions, garlic, ranch—who asked for all that? Definitely not me.

The Struggle with Homemade Meals

Growing up, homemade meals were a battlefield. The kitchen would be filled with smells I couldn’t stand, and I quickly learned that my dislike list was infinitely longer than my like list. Squash? No, thanks. Potatoes? Hard pass. Turkey wings dripping in sauce? Absolutely not. And don’t even get me started on neck bones or meatloaf. It’s like every dish had an ingredient that made me lose my appetite before I even sat down.

Chicken was the real turning point, though. At first, I liked it—who doesn’t as a kid? But my household cooked it every single night in different ways, then expected us to eat the leftovers in the morning. As if that wasn’t enough, the afterschool Boys & Girls Club served more chicken. It got to the point where I couldn’t even smell it without feeling sick.

Why I’d Rather Go Hungry

If I didn’t like what was being served, I simply wouldn’t eat. Period. I’d go days without food just to avoid eating something I hated. People thought I was stubborn, but I wasn’t about to compromise on something so personal. My taste buds didn’t care about effort or tradition—if I didn’t want it, I wasn’t eating it.

My main gripe with most meals was how unnecessarily complicated they were. Why not keep it plain and let people add their own extras? It’s the logical solution, but somehow that idea never caught on in my house. Fast food, on the other hand, understood me. No surprise onions or mystery flavors—just plain and simple food I could customize myself.

Taking Control of My Plate

Everything changed when I started earning my own money. Finally, I could order food exactly the way I wanted it—no onions, no garlic, no ranch. It was liberating. Suddenly, meals weren’t a dreaded chore; they were enjoyable. I learned that food isn’t one-size-fits-all, and forcing flavors on people doesn’t make it better—it just makes it less appetizing for those of us with specific tastes.

Thanks for taking time out to hear my story!