My husband took me to dinner for my birthday. For those interested, I'm still in my forties - barely! The waitress greeted us warmly and announced the special of the evening, "Fried Oysters." I looked her in the eye and announced, "I grew up and I don't have to eat those anymore!" I'm still wondering why I ever ate them in the first place.
Fear? Of what was I afraid? Would the precious and expensive oysters go to waste if I didn't eat them? Surely not! My parents loved fried oysters. They would have readily consumed my portion. At my house the parents (that's me and my husband) rejoice when the shrimp, mushrooms, and avocadoes go untouched. More for us! We grieve the day the children develop a taste for such delicacies. Less for us!
Duty? To be a true Nelson must one eat the strangest of foods? Maybe it was duty.
Isolation? Would I have missed out on the party that sprouted around a meal of fried oysters? Probably.
I'm pretty sure that the fried oyster meal was an impending coronary catastrophy! Dipped in egg and cracker crumbs, the oysters were fried in leftover drippings - most likely, bacon grease. They were then dipped in homemade sauce - a Miracle Whip and catsup mixture. It required equal parts sauce and oysters for me to ingest the slimy, greasy, creatures. That's a lot of saturated fat!
So ... I don't have to eat them and here is why.
#1 - I am not afraid!
#2 - I am a Nelson!
#3 - I enjoy my own company!
#4 - I am taking care of my heart!
And most importantly ...
#5 - I DON'T LIKE FRIED OYSTERS!
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