Yeah, Baby, I like it RA!

For the last... hmmm... maybe 20 years, Mom's tried making me eat fish.


It used to work when I was a toddler.
I still remember she'd force me to eat shrimp with ketchup back when I was around 2 (yeah, I have weird memories in my head. I can go back to being one and a half and having an unfortunate incident in the cradle. I told my Mom the story, and she stared at me, "How do you remember that? You were one and a half?" I dunno... I guess I have a gift for remembering traumatic events).

I remember not liking shrimp back then, either.
I'd sit next to my brother, Mom would bring in little plates for both of us, then she'd sit behind us (with that fucking leather belt--with burros, Charros, and cacti printed on it-- hanging around her neck) and tell us we weren't going anywhere until we finished our 10 little shrimps.
My bro would guzzle them down without any effort.
I remember sitting back staring at him eat each one with amazement.
I on the other hand, would hold one shrimp in my hand... and just stare at it (stupid pink and white headless little animal).
"You're not going anywhere until you're done with that," Mom would tell me.
She'd excuse my brother and he'd leave to the bedroom to play some Nintendo.

After about an hour of sitting at the kitchen table, and me crying and dipping the same shrimp in the ketchup, Mom would leave to the living room to watch her Novela.
"Y tu te me quedas sentada ahi hasta que te los acabes!" (You stay seated there until you finish them!)

Since our "house" was a ghetto, tiny square, any movement to the kitchen would be noticed from the living room:

However, older brother would be sneaky... and he'd wait behind the wall and then crawl on over to the kitchen whenever the Novela played its "suspense" music (I guess this made him feel cool... he had a thing for Rambo around this time).

Once there, he'd eat nine of the ten shrimp on my plate. I remember smiling and giggling because he'd make a game out of it (aww...right now I'm feeling warm and fuzzy inside remembering all this). I guess he did it to make me stop crying. I'd try feeding him my tenth shrimp, but he'd shove it back in my hand.

"Eat the last one in front of my Mom," he'd tell me.
"But they're nasty!"
"She won't believe you ate them all if you call her to show her your empty plate. She'll think you threw them in the trash," (something I had been guilty of in the past) he'd say.

Brother would sneak back out of the kitchen, the Novela would go on a commercial break, and Mom would walk back in to the kitchen to check up on me.

First, she'd inspect the trash can, the surrounding area, the sink, then my plate.
"I'm almost done," I'd tell Mom.
Older Brother would then walk out of the bedroom, head over to the kitchen, and stare at me as I shoved the last shrimp in my mouth.
I chewed that thing as if it were a cyanide capsule.
"Crybaby," he'd say and walk away (to this day, we still have this sort of relationship. Why? I don't know).
"There, that wasn't so bad," Mom would pat my head and leave.

Stupid ass shrimp... getting me in trouble since then.
I've tried to like them, really, but they're just so nasty... yet tasteless. It's gross.
I've also tried liking fish since apparently they're good for you.
It's something about their smell... their texture... I don't know... it's just so... not appealing to me.
To this day, I can't wash the dishes after someone's eaten fish on them because I end up fainting before I finish scrubbing (ehh... I've also had to dissect crayfish--or something similar-- in labs since eight grade... one of the most brutal things you could ever do to me).

Is it because I'm a Pisces?
I am a fish... therefore I do not eat fish?

Yesterday's discovery proved that to be sort of... wrong.
I'm a cannibal... of the worst kind:
I like 'em raw!
Turns out I've just been eating my seafood the wrong way.

Eww, eww, eww... yet... OMG... so damn good.

Thanks to my Sushi-addicted little sister, last Saturday I decided to try... I think it's some sort of Uramaki. Previous to that, I had given a California roll a try, and was absolutely appalled by it.
However, this one roll... it was so tasty.

Me: Yumm... what's this sweet sauce thingy on the roll?
Little Sister: It's... (inaudible)
Me: What?
I eat another one.
Little Sister: It's... eel sauce.
Me: Like... the ugly little bastards that live in the sea?
Little Sister: Yeah...
Fuck... I should probably be throwing up by now... but... it's so good...

So, over the week... that's all I could think about.
God, I could really use some Sushi right now... Screw it, come the weekend, I'm having some of that.
It's what got me through Finals and the study time.

So yesterday, since Fridays have now unofficially turned into "I Love My Sister" day, I went to a movie (The Ex... which bummed me out because I like Zach Braff, and to see the theater so empty made me sad for him) then to RA to take care of my Sushi craving (it's like I'm pregnant or something).

I do like that Uramaki... but I quickly learned that I STILL don't like other types of fish. I think I may just like crab. I tried salmon... and although I had to force myself to swallow that thing (I tried 4 of the little... tiny roll things), I'll probably still eat that kind of Sushi roll. I also tried one calamari (fucking nasty and never, ever, ever will I eat that again. Never.) that made me swear never to put anything like that in my mouth again.
It was still a good way to end my excursion out with Little Sister.

It took twenty years of "You better eat that!" and 21 years of support from the siblings to finally get me to open up to fish. Sure, I haven't fully embraced it... but it beats getting screamed at by Mom and having to dip shrimp into ketchup for hours before finally getting a sibling to eat it for me.

Fuck you, shrimp!