Today, I drove some friends to Panera (Oh, PS I can have a little bit of gluten now! yay). I figured that I should maybe branch out and try something besides my usual - the chicken caesar sandwich (sometimes with broccoli and cheese soup). I saw that the steak and cheese panini looked promising, so I decided to give it a whirl.
Just in the first bite, something seemed off. It tasted like a sicky-sweet version of horseradish, which could only mean one thing: a mayonnaise-based spread.
Omg.
But I couldn't freak out or anything, I had to be calm and collected so the girls would trust me to give them a ride back to campus. I needed to be a good example, I couldn't be all complaining and whiney. That's just not cool. So I decided to suck it up and eat the rest of the sandwich. Mistake.
"Keep calm, Katie. You'll be ok. Be a big girl, it'll be alright," I told myself over and over. It was very difficult to hear my reassuring words since my mind was a whirlwind of chaos and destruction.
I couldn't finish the whole sandwich, it was too awful. I just felt my arteries clogging and my world coming to an end. I finally made it back to campus..
As soon as I got to my room, I told my roommate the horrible news. I was almost in tears. She suggested that I brush my teeth, which would seem like the logical thing to do. But no. Not when that awful taste lingered in my mouth and down my throat, which, btw, felt like it was closing up (it was probably just the excessive coating of lard drowning my esophagus). I was not about to contaminate my tooth brush. I finally just brushed my teeth because I couldn't stand myself anymore, but that didn't help the taste go away (or rid me from the feeling of self loathing). The only thing I could think of besides getting mouth-throat-stomach replacement surgery that would help soothe the pain was to swallow mouthwash. It helped, but now, four hours later, I still feel contaminated, violated, unclean. When will this feeling ever go away? Days? Weeks? Months? YEARS?!?
After basically my whole life of being terrified and outright disgusted by mayonnaise, I finally eat a sandwich with mayo on it. What did I learn? That I was correct in thinking mayonnaise was an evil that should be avoided at all costs, including the privilege to go out to eat with your friends. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, but I question the validity of that statement since the past four hours I've been miserable, and I'm not sure if I can ever heal from this experience. I'll manage.
Hopefully.
