Assignment: What’s for dinner Mom? Describe a meal your Mom cooked that you dreaded eating growing up.
My mom is a good cook. Correction, she is a GREAT cook. There were not many meals that I "dreaded". In fact, there is only ONE meal that I "dreaded" and if truth be told, it was actually one of my favorite meals until...she made me smell my feet. What?!?! Yup! She made me smell my feet at the dinner table during this particular "feast" (It was borderline abusive if you ask me...LMAO!) and that was the end of my love for Pate Chinois or Shepard's Pie as you may know it.
I should disclose the fact that I have stinky feet. Always have. Always will. I was born with them, of this, I am positive. Not just smelly feet, down right stinky! (I use to be ashamed but as you see, I have no shame about this now, as an adult.) I do my best to prevent others from
Anywho, back to the family dinner that ruined my appetite for Pate Chinois...forever! Allow me to bring you back through time to that fateful night...
Me- What's for dinner mom?
Mom- Pate chinois.
Me- Woo Hoo! (happy dance around the kitchen)
***Fast Forward 1/2 hour later. My mom, dad and I are all sitting around the table enjoying the first few mouthfuls of delicious Pate Chinois...
Mom- Something smells...what is that smell?
Me- I don't smell anything. (I forgot to mention that I am often oblivious to my own foot odor)
Dad- Me either. (Apparently, so is my father.)
Mom- It smells like feet! Ginger do your feet smell?
Mom- It REALLY smells. Are you sure it's not your feet?
Me- Pretty sure. (I am enjoying my dinner way too much to truly "investigate" her complaint)
Mom- It is totally overwhelming. It smells gross (I should note that my mother is "scent sensitive" to the core!) I am sure it's your feet Ginger. Smell your feet!
Me- Ughh. Gross mom...no.
Mom- You need to be more aware of your body odor Ginger. Smell your feet!
Me- No...please don't make me. (Ok, this sounds more pathetic than it really was!)
Mom- Smell your feet now! (She meant business)
I put my fork down, push my chair out from the table and bend over and took a big whiff (Honestly, I didn't think it was my feet so I was being a bit over dramatic about having to smell my feet at the dinner table.) WELL, I instantly gagged and ran to the bathroom only to have what little of my Pate Chinois I had enjoyed come right back out. I returned to the table and announced, "Yup! It was definitely my feet."
Needless to say, supper was over and I have never attempted to consume Pate Chinois again. E-V-E-R!