If you are not a picky eater yourself, please try to understand something. We aren't picky because we are stubborn or trying to make your life difficult. I can't speak for all picky eaters, but I can tell you how it was for me. You know that irrational fear that you have? Think about it for a moment. Contemplate facing that thing head on. Think about letting that spider crawl all over you. Consider climbing up to the top of that mountain and looking down over the edge. Think about squeezing yourself into a tiny space and staying there all day. That is how it felt for me. If I looked at a sliced tomato, my mind never registered anything along the lines of "that would be so nice on a sandwich!" Instead, I looked at it and saw something slimy and disgusting. It didn't look edible. Putting it into my mouth would have been almost as repulsive and frightening to me as biting into a fat slug.
Throughout my life, one of the scariest things to face was an invitation to someone's house for dinner. If it was someone who knew me well, it wasn't such a big deal..."Oh, Lauren is coming, we'll just order a pizza or make her a peanut butter sandwich," but even then I would feel guilty. I knew I was depriving people of eating what they really wanted just to please me. Still, the worst was visiting someone new. First, there was the fear of offending them. People have a tendency to feel very personally about the food they make, and I don't blame them for it. I hated the idea of hurting someone's feelings because I wouldn't eat their food. But even if the person was really understanding about it, it was still awkward. There were those who tried to encourage me to "just try it," and others who would try to find me something else to eat. It didn't matter which way it went though. In either case, it was uncomfortable. I certainly wasn't looking to be the center of attention. All I wanted to do was disappear into a hole somewhere.
That's the thing about being a picky eater. It's embarrassing. It was never something I liked about myself (though I would fake-brag about being the pickiest person around). It wasn't my desire to be picky. I honestly didn't feel like I could do anything about it. I wasn't in control of my life. The selective eater inside me was calling all the shots.