One of the things I swore I would never do to my kids when I had a family was to force them to consume something that they really didn't want to consume (beyond the "one bite so you know if you actually like it or not" level). This is in large part because when I was in grade school and didn't like tomatoes, my father decided that I would not only drink some V-8 (tomato-veggie juice), but that I would drink an entire tall glass of it. I could not leave the table until I did.
Three hours later, I was still sitting at the table in the waning light, crying because I couldn't gag down the glass of juice. My mother (bless her heart! bless her with a thousand blessings!) took pity on me and waited until my dad was distracted with working on something outside to come by and chug the glass of tomato juice for me then let me go.
Fast-forward 35 years. Tomatoes and I are good friends, I grow them, eat them, cook with them. But the smell or taste or even the *thought* of tomato juice in a glass makes me gag, thanks to old emotional baggage.
This is stupid, thought I. My dad isn't even alive anymore and here I am reacting to his poor parenting. I am sick and tired of this old event having this hold on me! SO - I bought a big jug of V-8 and drank it.
Slowly. Recoiling and gagging over the first teensy dollops, wincing over the small juice glasses of it and forcing it down like medicine. I finally managing to empty the entire thing. Okay, I can do this, I thought - and I bought another and did it again.
By the end of the third jug, I could drink it without gagging! Freeedoooom! I still don't find it my favorite flavor and have to have something after to erase the taste, but I can do it! I took a big swig of the stuff right from the jug this morning just because I COULD.
Ah. That's better. V-8 and I are reconciled at last. Go forth and do likewise.
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