As a child, I was NOT a good eater. As a matter of fact, I remember having to drink an absolutely, awful milkshake-type of beverage that came out of a can. That was WAY back in the day, mind you. It was probably a tin can, at that. Anyway, the doctor (my grandmother?) thought that I was too thin, didn't eat well and needed some supplemental intake. This came to be once I found her lying about adding a raw egg into a real chocolate milkshake she was fixing for me each morning. I remember feeling so horrified the first time I saw her adding the egg to my delicious milkshake. She told me she always added it, but once I KNEW it was in there, the taste suddenly changed. I began to experience an "egg-y aftertaste." She then began to prepare the shake when I wasn't in the kitchen. But, each time, before I lifted the glass to my lips, I would ask her if it contained an egg and she would SWEAR that it didn't. I remember going over to the metal "hit the foot pedal" trash can and there, as I suspected, laid a fresh egg shell. If only I knew how bad the "shakes" would be that the doctor ordered, I would have drank her homemade ice cream shakes with real whole milk-egg or not!!!! Oh my.....big mistake. To get back to being a poor eater, my grandfather sat to my left at the dinner table and enabled me in my poor eating habits by letting me pass pieces of meat and vegetables onto his plate when no one was looking.
Sometimes, I handed off the bites of food under the table. Every once in awhile, my father would catch us in action and reprimand me for not appreciating the fact that I even HAD food to eat at all. "There are starving kids in Biafra, you know." I would hear that line over and over and feel guilty that I wasn't hungry. Apparently, according to Wikipedia, "On June 30, 1969, the Nigerian government banned all Red Cross aid to Biafra. Two weeks later, it allowed medical supplies through the front line, but restricted food supplies." Due to that ban, thousands of people died from starvation. I wish I could have eaten something for one of them, but I just wasn't hungry!I must have been on the cusp my "hormonal" age when one night, I rebelled. After getting the "starving kids" lecture, I stood up and demanded an envelope. "If these kids are starving, then get me an envelope. I'll mail my steak to one of them." Very disrespectful, I now admit, but I don't recall any backlash from my father from my out-of-character outburst. Perhaps he realized there was nothing I could do to help those kids.
Today, I find myself making donations to the Red Cross and UNICEF. I think about those poor kids and wished I could have done something for them when they needed it most. I can thank my father for laying the ground work of guilt that makes me want to make up for not eating when I was a kid. The scale indicates that not only has guilt given me an appetite, but it also urges me to utilize PayPal to make my donations. I get the opportunity to free my soul every now and then and help someone who can't help themselves. Try it, it tastes good!
