Holidays

I hope anyone who actually reads this had an enjoyable Easter holiday. Half of my family was missing, so I didn't particularly enjoy myself, but then again, I haven't really enjoyed a holiday since Christmas 2004. There was one thing that I noticed today that I think people like me suffer from every year. If you, like me, are an extremely picky eater, then holidays are probably miserable for you.
Seriously, it is tiring explaining to ten different people twenty different times that no, I really don't like salad. No, I don't like tomatoes, but yes I like marinara sauce. Am I hungry? I'm starving, but I am not about to chow down on the foliage you are currently offering. I'll wait for some meat. Is that an egg on that plate, Dad? I don't eat eggs and haven't in the nineteen years you've known me. Sure, I'll try that cake. Oh, it has pineapple in it? Never mind then. Yes, that's right, I hate pineapple.
These are just samples of some of the things I have had to repeat what felt like hundreds of times today. I am a very picky eater, but I am totally fine with that. It is everyone around me who can't wrap their head around the fact that I hate hamburgers. And yes, I realize that most of the food I hate, I hate for childish reasons. Tuna? Because it smells like death. Salad? Because it's cold and rubbery and gross. Corn? Fuck you and your corn.
And for about three hundred days out of the year I am perfectly content to eat my broccoli (only the way my dad makes it) and my potatoes and my meat (only if there is balsamic vinegar to dip said meat into). However, it is around the holidays and birthdays, when most of the family is together, that I have to keep explaining myself and it is so tiring.
That is why I propose a support group for picky eaters. There needs to be one, especially because some of the looks and comments I get are so frustrating. What is to you if I never eat a piece of cucumber in my life? Am I really going to be lying on my deathbed thinking about all the food I never ate? I hope not. Also, only another picky eater will understand that you won't eat hamburger because it smells funny, or you won't touch carrots because they're creepy looking. I wonder if there is a way to really get a support group up and running. I'll even be the first person.
Hello, my name is Kayla, and I hate ketchup.