When I was a kid, my mother used to feed me mashed-potato sandwiches, brussel sprout sandwiches; my brain cells were starving from lack of food. I'll eat anything. I'll eat dirt.
My parents always used to complain about my eating habits. I was different. I was wrong. Everything had to be plain or boiled. I was 14 before I ate pasta with tomato sauce. My dad would take me to the best restaurants, and all I would eat was rice with olive oil.
Contrary to popular belief, I eat all types of food. Fried food is my least favorite.
It's weird, but people like it when I eat things.
Yet, for my part, I was never unusually squeamish; I could sometimes eat a fried rat with a good relish, if it were necessary.
I lick the cheese off Doritos and put them back in the bag. I will eat pretty much anything as long as it's salty. Or sweet. Or spicy.
If it's dead, I'll eat it. If it's alive, I'll eat it, too. Jus put it in front of me and get out of the way.
My mother has told so many times the unbelievable story of how, as a toddler, I would demand raw onions and eat them like apples, I think that, at this juncture, it is a story that just has to be believed.
