Thursday, July 14, 2016

Creeps and Sticky Rice

I was at a Chinese restaurant with my parents and sister when I noticed the guy sitting across from us. He was staring at my sister with this creepy smile on his face. Initially, I gave him the benefit of the doubt: Maybe he was just zoned out and while his eyes were on her, his mind was somewhere else. It happens. But he was still doing it the second time I looked over. And the second. And the third. And the fourth. Somehow, no one else at my table had noticed, but it was really bothering me. So I set down my fork and gave him my own best creepy face. After a minute or two of this, I wondered if I was going to have to say something or if maybe I could get away with giving him a lobotomy with the nearest chopstick. Finally, he noticed me staring at him. I took care not to let my expression change. I didn't look away. I didn't even blink. Apparently he found being stared at by a creepy stranger uncomfortable, because he got up and left.

The rest of the meal passed without further incident, at least until I decided to try the sushi. I've had some ready-made stuff before and liked it, so I thought this stuff would be even better. I like trying new foods, but my texture issues do make it difficult. I hate having to waste food for any reason, but if I can't handle the texture I can't eat it. And though I've perfected the act of discreetly spitting food into my napkin, it feels extra awkward and gross in public. I also hadn't yet realized how much worse my sensory issues were getting. So I grabbed two chunks of sushi because they looked different and I was hoping at least one of them would be good. Upon noticing that I was about to try a new food, my family paused their own eating and watched expectantly. Of course, they know all about my texture sensitivities and find my resulting adventures amusing.

Well..I've heard of sticky rice before, but I never really knew what it was and did not make the connection until it was too late. 'Sticky' is a good word for it, though I don't know where they get off calling these swollen, rubbery pellets of doom 'rice'. It *looked* like rice, sure. But not only did it not feel like rice when I bit in, these horrific, nasty things were now stuck to my teeth. And my hands. I didn't even get a chance to actually try and eat this thing because I was done as soon as my teeth touched this abomination-in-rice's-clothing. Into the nearest napkin it went, as I reminded myself not to panic. Yes, there was something hideous stuck to my hands, but it wasn't the end of the world. I just needed to get rid of it and pretend none of it ever happened. And never, ever try a new food ever again. Or maybe I'd just give up food altogether. That sounded like a good plan to me.

"Oh," I said.

 "Ugh," I gagged.

 "Oh. No. Bathroom?!"

Translation: I need to wash this sticky nastiness off my hands but I am too grossed out to communicate effectively. Please direct me to the nearest bathroom because ohmygodfuckthis

I am forever grateful for junk food. It never betrays me.




No comments:

Post a Comment