You Do You, I’ll Eat My Olives and Cream Cheese

Like, STFU about your food with tentacles.

Just a little something that’s been plaguing my mind recently -

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Let’s get something clear: being a picky eater is neither a moral failing nor an invitation for constant critique. Yet, for some reason, people seem to feel entitled to judge and question every food choice I make, as if it's their mission to "fix" my preferences. The scrutiny is relentless and, quite frankly, exhausting. I’m not harming anyone by passing on dishes that don’t appeal to me, so why does it feel like I’m constantly under attack for simply eating what I enjoy? The pressure to conform to other people’s standards of "good" food is uncalled for, and frankly, enough is enough.

Look, food preferences are personal, alright? If I want to snack on olives, cream cheese, potato chips, and mayonnaise, or squirt some glorious canned cheese on a Triscuit, I’m going to do that. No, that’s not an invitation for your gag reflex or unsolicited opinion about how you would “never eat that.” Guess what? I would never eat half the stuff you shove down your throat, but you don’t see me holding an intervention every time you order calamari. Just because something’s served in a fancy restaurant doesn’t mean it’s not still a rubbery sea creature. And no, I’m not going to feel guilty for passing on that either.

The truth is, the pressure to conform to everyone else’s idea of what’s “good” food is exhausting. Like, why are people so obsessed with what I’m eating, anyway? I’m here, minding my own business, eating something that brings me joy. Then, like clockwork, someone feels the need to swoop in and play food police. “Oh, you’re not going to try that? It’s soooo good, though!” Yeah? Well, I don’t care. I don’t enjoy eating things just because someone else thinks they’re “good.” Funny how taste buds work, huh?

And let’s not even start on the force-feeding. The number of times I’ve had someone practically shove a plate in my face and tell me I’ll “like it if I just try it” is baffling. When I say I don’t want it, I mean I don’t want it. Why is that so hard to grasp? The assumption that I’m somehow missing out on a life-changing experience by skipping your beloved sushi or avant-garde beet salad is laughable. I’m perfectly happy with my choice, thanks.

There’s this pervasive idea that picky eaters are just being difficult or too picky. Ever think it might just be that some foods are straight-up unappealing? Or, and here’s a shocker, some of us might have legitimate issues with certain foods—whether it’s texture, taste, or, you know, trauma around eating. Gasp. It’s not like we’re out here launching personal attacks on your food choices, so how about returning the favor?

The bottom line is this: I should be able to enjoy what I like without a side of judgment. And for the love of everything holy, if I want cheese in a can on a Triscuit, I’m going to have it. I’d rather eat that any day than your latest foodie concoction, and that’s not a reflection of my worth as a person. So, let picky eaters be picky. Trust me, we’re not the problem—you are.

In conclusion, mind your plate.