I hated Brussels Sprouts.
I also hated any boiled vegetable.
Raw, I liked. Put a salad in front of me any day.
But boiled vegetables? Awful.
Still think that these days.
So, when my mother said “Well, you need to try different things” and I tried it and hate it, what kind of asshole MAKES IT AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN?
What? It doesn’t taste like mushy vomit the second and third and eleventy billionth time?
And if I don’t like it, I’m the one who’s wrong? What?
No, mother… you were a fucking asshole.
And you were a shitty cook.