Picky eater, that's an understatement; I'm 20 almost 21 years old and I can not eat more that a handful of things. Just try it, they say; you may like it, they say: guess what, I won't.


Hello my name is Tori and I can only eat plain cheese pizza with no sauce, chicken tenders (from Arby's, Zaxby's, Bojangles, and Popeye) pop corn, homemade grilled cheeses (with American Velveeta cheese and nature's own white bread.) peanut butter sandwiches, crunchy crinkle cut french fries (with Larry's seasoning salt) and sour cream and onion Lays potato chips, and my most recent addition Popeyes fried shrimp.


From a very young age I did not like most food, I lived on bread and French fries. My mother, Bless her soul, was the only one who listened to me. Though she still made me try things she never made me sit at a table all night until I ate something or anything like that. My dad was less… supportive, and forced me to eat things I did not and could not like or eat. Not only could I only eat a few things, I could only eat them MY way. Therefore there was a very limited number of places I could eat.


One year I was in the very very small Christian private school (where my mother was working so I got to go with a discount, or whatever) there was about 10 kids in 1-3 grade. I was in 3rd, I brought my lunch everyday (bread, peanut butter, chips, and I got chocolate milk at school) now my peanut butter sandwich had to be made “fresh” so I made them at lunch so, I would eat like 3 of them. So one week we have this sub, and we are at lunch on like the 3rd day she is there. She looks at me gets up and yells at me “I'M TIRED OF WATCHING YOU EAT PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH EVERY DAY. GROW UP AND EAT REAL FOOD.” And then she sits back down like nothing happened.


Time after time, I sit and smile and say I'm not hungry when my stomach is growling, because I don't like what is there. Time after time, I feel like crap because my boyfriend wants to go out and eat a nice dinner, but I can only eat ‘kid food’. Time and time again I sit and cry in my room wishing someone would understand what is wrong with me and not give me that sideways look. Time after time I get food shoved in my face and hear in that high pitch “just try it, you could like it”. Time after time I have to leave the kitchen because the smell of ‘normal food’ makes me sick. And time after time I go to bed hungry because there's nothing to eat, nothing for Me to eat.