Tomatoes!

This hate makes me turn my niece into the family dog. I can’t stand tomatoes. They’re all mushy and seedy, like bad jell-o with stuff in it. Whenever I am out to eat with Haley, I scrape the tomatoes off my salad onto her plate. She doesn’t mind, because if I don’t offer them she makes sure to ask (politely of course!). There’s simply something repulsive about tomatoes. I do not like the taste, but that’s not what makes me gag. It’s the fact that they get so slimey and runny. You make one slice in those juice balloons and there is just stuff everywhere. What appears to be water with blood cells in it comes running out, the inner pulp falls apart and my nose turns up at the sight. I won’t even eat a lettuce leaf out of my salad if it has so much as a tomato seed on it. It’s too nasty, and from a girl who spent time cutting up dead people, that says a lot.

I’ve spent most of my life listening to my parents say, “I think we brought home the wrong child, who doesn’t eat tomatoes?” Well mom and dad, the same child who doesn’t eat green beans, meat loaf, vegetable soup, roast beef, chili, salisbury steak, white rice or food that gets cooked together in one big pot because I prefer my food segregated. I might be a picky eater. Even Haley says, “I won’t ever understand why you don’t like tomatoes Aunt Nikki.” She says this as she crams a handful of diced tomatoes in her mouth and a little part of me dies.

I know you’re thinking this, so I’ll go ahead and answer: no, I do not eat ketchup, yes I do eat sauce on my spaghetti and I like pizza sauce. Yes I understand they are tomato by-products but if I don’t have to see the chunks, I won’t blow them.