There is always that one food that people have an aversion to. My dad absolutely hates peas. My friend Rose breaks out into hives at the thought of shrimp. J. Sutt detests anchovies (I mean...who doesn't) and Krystal....well...she hates everything so that's a bad example.
When I think of beets I throw up in my mouth a little. Quite possibly the most disgusting vegetable ever to come out of soil, the mere sight of them gives me the willies.
I will now regal you, the readers of YGIU.com, with the story of how I came to hate the beets.
I was summer time. I was about 6 and my sister was 10. My parents decided to drop us off at my aunt and uncle's house for the weekend so they could go and visit friends down in New Jersey. I, personally, was horrified by this. I always found my Uncle Charlie kind of odd. He would do this weird thing with his tongue where he would make this slurppy clucking sound and chase me around with Zombie arms (and you all wonder why I'm like I am). Armed with only my Sleepy Bear Care Bear there wasn't a whole lot I could do to defend myself.
My sister and I were two of the youngest cousins on my dad's side of the family. His brother's four daughters were all at least 10 years older than us and my aunt and uncle who we were staying with had three boys; youngest was 9 years our senior.
There are a few things I remember about that weekend: my aunt and uncle had a kick ass hammock in their back yard and I would shellack myself to that and just laze around on it in the afternoon, with my Care Bear of course. My sister and I had onion pizza for the first time that weekend. Aunt Maureen and Uncle Charlie had an outside shower and came from the mentality that, when it hit Memorial Day, you took showers outside!
Shana and I were not at all accustomed to this line of thinking. We were used to having doors, privacy and not having people immediately outside having a BBQ while you're showering. Even at 6 years old I was like "Are you for real???"
My cousin Charles, who was at the time in his early 20's was there for the weekend with his girlfriend (now wife and mother of 3), Pam. I remember thinking Pam was cool. I didn't interact with her much. I sat in the living room and played with my Barbies while she taught Shana how to separate an egg. Separating eggs: not my bag when I was 6 and still not my bag now that I am 25.
At one point during the weekend we sat down to dinner. I think we were having hamburgers. In any case, I settled into my seat dying to carve into my burger in front of me. This is how I remember the scene playing out:
Next to me was this bowl of red gross-ness. I remember giving it a sideways glace and thinking to myself "Oh...hell to the no am I eating whatever that is." My Aunt Maureen then goes "Lisa, you have to try some beets."
I looked up at her and said, "No."
Aunt Maureen gave me a look, they always had it on good authority that my sister and I were spoiled and that our parents let us get away with a lot. They weren't wrong but Aunt Maureen was not about to let me tell her 'No'.
"Lisa, you're going to try beets."
She took the spoon and heaped a pile of beets on my plate the size of Kansas. I poked my fork into one and took a whiff. "BLECH!!!" It smelled horrible. I took a nibble at it and immediately started to choke at its sheer barfiness.
"Aunt Maureen, I really don't like them."
"Well, you can't get Tasty Treat until you finish all of those beets."
**GASP!!!** The woman was holding Tasty Treat over my head?! The thought of having to forego the amazing chocolate covered soft serve at Tasty Treat, where my cousin Tim worked was a fate worse than death. So...I choked down the beets. I finished every last one in all of their slimy red glory, keeping in the back of my mind that the sweet deliciousness from Tasty Treat would cancel out any beet-like aftertaste that was quickly accumulating in the back of my mouth and uvula. I had to supress the surging vomit that kept rearing it's ugly head every 10 seconds. I made it my mission to clean up as quickly as possible so we could get Tasty Treat. I was the first person in the car, seat belt fastened ready to go.
I breathed slowly; in through the nose, out through the mouth, thinking of Vanilla soft serve in a cone with a chocolaty crunchy crust over it. YUM.
We got to Tasty Treat and I elbowed my way through the line. Outta my way grandma!! I've got beet breath!!!
I smiled at Tim; yeah yeah yeah having a great time. Super. Give me my ice cream.
Finally! I scarffed down the treat (brain freeze be damned!!) and waited. I waited for the vanilla taste to mask the beet taste. But it never came. Crestfallen, I crawled back into the car and sprawled all over the back seat. My histrionics were completely lost on my aunt and uncle. They could not believe that I was putting on such a show just because of beets!
Fast forward 16 years.
My cousin Pam, her husband Charles and their three boys were down at my parents Cape house for the weekend. We were all chatting, having some cocktails and apps. Some how the story of The Beets came up. I retold the story and had everyone laughing. All of a sudden Pam goes "HAHAHA! But that wasn't Aunt Maureen who made you eat the beets. It was me!"
You could have cut the silence with a dull butter knife.
"WHAT?!"
"I made you eat the beets. I wanted you to try them and you kept saying no. But you'd never even had them, so I thought "Well how does she know unless she tries them?!' "
So aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall of these years I blamed my Aunt Maureen for forcing me to eat the slimy beets, when it was really Pam! And at the time I wasn't even related to her!!!!
And that, is the story of how I came to hate beets.
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