Brussels Sprouts are of the Devil

I feel like I've outgrown a lot of prejudices. For instance, freckles. I used to think freckles made everybody ugly, probably because I always got a thick patch of them in the summertime and I hated them on myself. I felt so sorry for people with freckles.

but now, I think freckles can be rather beautiful.

I used to find mustard horrifying. I'd throw a (hopefully usually internal) tantrum if even a tinge of yellow graced my sandwiches. And now, not so. Mustard is one of my favorite condiments, if not my favorite. Particularly when anointing corn dogs or corned beef and cabbage (which I have always loved. No changes there.)

I used to think blond hair was quite boring. All my sisters had blond hair, I had blond hair. Blond, blond, blond. Boring.

I've realized, since moving to different places and seeing lots of people, that blond hair is rather rare. So now I try to like my blond hair and not think it's boring, and I overcompensate for the blond stereotype by using words that are too big and wearing nerdy shirts.


I have never been able to overcome one prejudice, however. Not even as an adult.

I hate most vegetables.

They don't taste like food.

I hate them.

I've been forcing myself to eat a lot more raw vegetables lately. I know they're good for me. I've been hoping that, after having consumed them for a while, I'll get used to the taste and start liking them. And while I *do* like how I feel when I eat them, I still haven't gotten over the slight gag-reflex that comes when I try to swallow a grainy mouthful of raw broccoli, or that strange, mealy-crunchy texture of cauliflower, or when I taste the bitter, sour-sweet-with-that-tinge-of-alkaline-poison taste of Romaine lettuce.

Green beans.
Brussels Sprouts (ugh).
Carrots, beets, turnips, parsnips....

Why. Why?? I want to like them. I'd love to like them. It's not like I haven't developed my palate since childhood. I like things like sushi, for crying out loud. What so offensive about an innocent little spear of celery?

What possible adaptive reason could this have? Did I inherit some primitive, bloodthirsty genetics adapted from centuries of viking ancestors?

I've smothered them in mirin sauce. In nacho cheese sauce. In hollandaise sauce. I just. can't. like them. And I guess like blondness and freckles, I have to live with that.