Pastafarianism Is Not For Me

(My father is very much an “eat everything on your plate” parent. When I am preschool age, he often cooks up this pasta dish with ground beef, macaroni, and tomato sauce that I absolutely hate. Suppers with this dish often drag on for hours, because I just cannot eat this dish and would rather go hungry.)

Dad: “Oh, for crying out loud. Just f****** eat it already.”

Me: *tries to stuff forkful in my mouth at once, only to gag*

Dad: *cursing and swearing* “Stop acting up and eat it.”

Me: “I can’t!”

(My mom wordlessly gets up and leaves the dining room, returning a bit later with a plate of corn — something I like, but my father hates. She sets the plate down in front of my father.)

Dad: “What the f*** is this?”

Mom: “You need to finish the whole plate. If she has to eat something she hates, then so do you.”

Dad: *grumbles, snatches my plate away from me, and storms out of the room*

(From then on, I never had to eat the pasta dish. Instead, my mom would cook some of the ground beef on its own and would give it to me with some vegetables. Twenty years later, though, just the smell of pasta cooking makes me feel nauseated.)