My hate affair with meat began when I was a kid. Maybe it was the stomach-churning sight of beef tongue slowly squishing out of a grinder. Maybe it was a turkey overdose at Thanksgiving. I’m not sure, but for some reason I’ve just never been much of a meat eater. This was never more evident than the time I got in trouble for the Great Closet Caper.You see, even as a youngster I was devious. One day at the dinner table, a great idea came to me. I would stuff my mouth with the aforementioned detested meat, excuse myself to wash my hands, then make a “deposit.” When I got to the bathroom, I turned on the sink faucet, slipped quietly next door to my bedroom, spit the meat inside a box of clothing in the closet, went back to the bathroom to finish “washing my hands,” then returned to the kitchen, the dirty deed done. My parents had no clue. I was a genius! Out of mouth, out of mind!
Since this trick worked well the first time, I kept using it…with variations so no one would get suspicious. “I need to blow my nose.” “There’s something in my eye.” “I’ve gotta do a number two.” I had the excuses all worked out. Sometimes I’d just have the meat surreptitiously wrapped up in a napkin rather than in my mouth. Oh, I was slick….
....until the day Mama Bore decided to clean out the closet. Ooops! “Nancy Elizabeth, get yourself here right this minute.” That was the standard line for: BUSTED! Man, did I ever learn a lesson that day: although I didn't care for meat, apparently ants and roaches thrive on the stuff. It's a wonder I didn't get my nose rubbed in the mess, but Mama Bore took mercy upon me and I got off with a stern lecture….something about how starving children in Africa would love to trade places with me. We all heard a version of that one when we were kids, didn't we. What a guilt trip.
Well, I went back to eating meat, having survived my run-in with the closet police, but eventually, after my parents split up, I was given more leeway with my food choices. If all I wanted for supper was a box of Sugar Pops, that was okay with Mama Bore. She had bigger dilemmas to worry about than the content of my stomach.
I’m still not much of a meat eater, but every once in a while I’ll break down and have a hamburger or a turkey sandwich. Likewise, every once in a while Mama Bore or my big sister, with whom I shared the infamous closet, will remind me of that buggy box from so many years ago. We laugh about it now, but I’d still rather have a big ol’ bowl of cereal than a steak any day. Pass me a spoon and the milk, please. Bon appetit!
4 comments:
That is so funny, I was the same way as a kid but with veggies. I would put them in a napkin and then in the trash or beg my sis to eat them. Mom always found out and I was stuck at the table till I finished or never got desert.
Well, at least you were smart enough NOT to hide your veggies! Moms sure are smart, aren't they? They ALWAYS find out what's going on behind their backs.
stashing food must run in your family---remember the years old sandwich your mom had in the back of the refrigerator; she couldn't bear to throw it away because it was the lst sandwich little Gloria made. obviously she mellowed after your meat box caper.
Yeah---the sandwich is still there---with Gloria's teeth marks in it! Once when Brooke Anne was about 12 or 13 she was spending some time over the summer visiting with me. After she returned home, I found some of her stashes...a plate with a pancake stuck to it...in between the washer and dryer...and empty gum and candy wrappers in the freezer. Figure that out!
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