up until about a year ago, you couldn't get me near broccoli. I hated it and everything about it. The damn Green Giant giving me looks. Look at yourself, meat!
I lothed broccoli. The funny thing is, ever since I was a little kid my parents championed broccoli, saying it was a vital part of a healthy diet. They said that it could keep me healthy when I got older. And oh- vitamins this, greenery that, yada yada blim blam. Point being, they loved it- I hated it.
They even served it at dinner. More often than I care to remember. Once or twice I would try it, but it always ended up the same- my body not wanting to like it, and thus- rejecting it all together. Then 2 weeks would pass, and my mom would serve it again.
"Just try it, Scott."
"But I already did try it mom- last week- and it sucked. And it's going to suck again because I hate broccoli."
This dilaogue would ulttimately result in the following:
"You will sit here at the table until you eat your broccoli."
Ha- joke's on them, poor bastards. I was a little shit when I was younger, and I made sure to remind my parents of that, sitting at the table- somtimes for hours, just so I wouldn't have to eat the crap. One night I sat there until long after 9 PM (my bedtime as a boy), and still would not take one bite. I was ungrateful, and I didn't give a shit.
It was only recently that I started incorporating broccoli into the salads I make. But only raw, and only occasionally. I still am just not too sure about it.
And then, lo and behold, one day I realized that I was craving broccoli- and not just in my salad either. I wanted a bowl of Panera Broccoli Cheddar soup, I wanted stir fry with broccoli in it, I want beef and broccoli from a shitty chinese food place.
I love broccoli, and for once- I am not afraid to say it! Broccoli, I love you! Will you marry me?