Here, let me help you with that

I often wonder why it is that I struggle so much with new foods, but this story might help shed some light on that subject.

I went to a friend's house last month to celebrate the end of the fasting month. The main celebration activity, besides karaoke, is, of course, eating. I sit down at the table and my friend begins telling me what the various dishes on the table are. This can be a blessing and curse - knowing which dish is lung and which one is regular beef is nice. But then there are the times when all the dishes are weird and you just don't want to know. She points to the chicken dish for this year and excitedly tells me that this is a special type of chicken. Her sister-in-law leans over to tell me, in a very happy tone, that they call this "retired chicken" because it's really old. She then proceeds to plop a big ole piece on my plate. I poke at the piece with my spoon and declare with relief in my voice that I must have just gotten a piece of bone, so I move onto to some newer pieces of meat.

I'm doing just fine with the safe dish I found on the table when the sister-in-law reaches over to my plate. "Let me help you with that," she says as she begins to pick of miniscule pieces of meat off the retired chicken for me. I thank her with a smile knowing that I know HAVE to eat this chicken. OK, granted, it wasn't absolutely horrible, but my stomach did let me know that it was done taking in anymore new foods.