Friday, April 22, 2011

picky eater advice

Advice time!

Dear Prudence,

I'm in my mid-20s and just got engaged to a sweet, funny, and attentive guy, whom I love very much. The problem? He's a very picky eater. He eats only about 10 things, all stuff you'd see on a kids' menu, such as chicken fingers, fries, plain pizza, and grilled cheese. He doesn't have a good explanation for it; he just says he doesn't like the textures of other foods. He knows it's a problem but doesn't do anything to work on it. This bothers me for several reasons. For one, though his doctor says he's healthy, I'm concerned that later he'll suffer the consequences of eating fried foods and no vegetables. Second, the refusal to eat like a grownup is a turn-off, and I see this trait as childish and stubborn. Third, his eating habits severely limit where we eat out. We'll never dine at an interesting restaurant, which I can get over, but it would be nice to have a special dinner somewhere other than a pizza parlor. I love him and don't want to make him feel embarrassed or pressured, but his picky eating is starting to grate on me. What should I do?

—Fed Up

Is that even real? What should you do? There's only one thing: TELL HIM TO FUCKING GROW UP. TELL HIM TO STOP ACTING LIKE A GODDAMN CHILD AND START ACTING LIKE A MAN. Lucky for you, there are a couple of ways to tell him what a dipshit he is.

1. Go out and buy shitloads of veggies and every kind of food that he hates. Put that food all over the kitchen in all of its delicious glory. Then right before he gets home from work, grab the first guy you see and let him go to town on you right as your husband walks in the door.

2. Straight up tell him he's being a pussy. "Honey, your eating habits fucking disgust me. You are a real piece of shit". If he doesn't get the point, that's all you need to know right there.

3. Buy him knives, meat, guns, whiskey, tools, Clint Eastwood DVDs and maybe he'll get the picture.

And now here's Prudie's advice, with my critique immediately below:

Dear Fed,
His Happy Meal is your unhappy meal. Here's something to chew on: Your fiance and people like him might have their very own listing in the next edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Mental health professionals are considering making "selective eating" a new eating disorder. Right now, little is known about the condition, but researchers believe it could be a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Your fiance could even participate in Duke University's online survey of adult finicky eaters. The typical finicky diet—bland, white, cheesy, greasy—pretty much describes what your boyfriend probably wants to tell the caterer to serve for your wedding reception.

Sorry, gotta chime here before the next paragraph of advice: holy shit, being a spoiled little shit is a mental disorder now? It is absolutely mindboggling how FUCKING BABIED people are. You don't want to eat your brussel sprouts? You're suffering from Selective Eating!

Did you get caught boning your secretary? Sorry honey, I'm suffering from Selective Boning!

I got caught snarking the receptionist's chair! Sorry receptionist, I'm suffering from Selective Snarking!

Selective Frotting, Selective Hating, Selective Letting the Dog Out, Selective Cleaning, Selective Flagellation, Selective Respect, Selective Loving, Selective Child Rearing, Selective Safe-Sexing, Selective Binge Drinking, Selective Lurking, Selective Leering, Selective Creeping, I could go on.

Where does the line get drawn and when do we start taking responsibility for our own problems? My guess is never.

Prudie drops some more knowledge:

Most couples can accommodate differences in taste. But your boyfriend wants to go through life tasting only 10 things. So you will be annoyed by his limitations every night at dinner, during every social event, and at every celebration. Perhaps it would help if you thought of this as a medical issue. If he had celiac disease, you would be sympathetic to his food restrictions. Of course, he could try to change, and seeking out a cognitive behavioral therapist would be the way to go. Successful treatment requires that he have a stated goal of, say, going out for Thai food with you. But his actual goal may be avoiding Thai, and all other cuisines except McDonald's, because just the thought of what most people eat makes him gag. You say you can live with never eating in a nice restaurant, but in the same sentence you say you're already sick of pizza parlors. You claim that you don't want to pressure or embarrass him, but you're not even married and you're finding his food phobias hard to swallow. He has a problem, which he didn't hide when you two started going out to his favorite dives. You had the chance to conclude, He's a great guy, but he only eats chicken fingers and fries, and I can't take it. Instead you stayed, and now you expect him to be someone different. Before you set the date, you need to imagine celebrating all of your anniversaries at Domino's.


I hate to be crass here, but basically you're a dumb bitch who knew what you were getting into. You actively chose to agree to marry a child. The only correct assumption here is that you too are a dipshit, and you obviously have some hideous, unnamed childish habit that you likely try to pawn off as a legit mental deficiency. True, you both are grossly mentally deficient, but that stems from your childhood lack of "no's".

All your parents had to do was say "NO" once in a while and you'd probably be fine. It's so scary not just that you'll procreate, but the fact that a legit mental disorder is even being discussed here - in a context other than absolute ridicule.

My wife is a behavior analyst, and while I didn't ask her about any of this stuff, I assumed things and came to the conclusion that you're pissing me off.

You know, I try to end Friday posts with something positive, like a "THE WEEKEND OMG PARTY TIME", but you've ruined that.


1 comment:

Orlandooooo said...

RETARDS! Check out this article that popped up on Yahoo! today: