The day I gave up tuna I carried that lunch box, smacked it on the lunch table like any ordinary day. The contents spilled out and I probably traded some baggies of snacks ....
with Cindy Weiss or Julia Comer, our schoolroom friendship much later re-acquainted via Facebook. Those were the sweet baggies back then -- the fold top -- very hard to find now and for which I'd pay just about anything.
I can remember eating part of my sandwich with the Ramona-like gusto of a third grader until I peered inside, quite by accident, and found a few small black objects scattered among by beige and pink tuna. I slammed the sandwich shut, looked around to see if anyone noticed and threw it back into my lunchbox.
Later, in the safety of my home, I pulled it out and asked my mom what the black dots were. She shrugged, "The fish's eyeballs." Like it was no big deal. My face fell.
I just could not eat tuna eyeballs.
It would be 23 years before I would eat tuna again.
The power of suggestion is an amazing force, my friend.
1 comment:
Your sweet mom could not be so mean.
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