A deeper look into my phobia of condiments

This phobia will be a recurring theme in this food blog, because it is central to every decision about food that I have made since I was a small child. I actually believe that my phobia may just be the key to the success of this food blog. I just noticed a comment asking me about what sorts of toppings I put on my hot dog. Among the suggested toppings were mayo, mustard, ketchup, relish, and sour cream. I must let you all know that unless there is some sort of special, celebratory post with multiple exclamation points and bright colors, one should assume that a fair distance has been maintained between my food and these grotesque substances.

I really cannot remember how it started, but I am sure that it has something to do with my brother, Matthew, drowning everything he ate in ketchup. I remember thinking that the ketchup was similar to blood. This does not explain everything, however, because ketchup is just one of the many substances I am averse to. I really cannot recall any sort of traumatic experience involving other condiments, though maybe the phobia grew out of this original fear of ketchup and became more and more monstrous and out of control.

As a child, my three main fears were ketchup, shaving cream, and monsters. I also feared salad dressing in all of its forms, mustard, and mayonnaise, but for some reason I didn't encounter/notice these things as often. There was a time in elementary school during lunch when I unknowingly walked under the ketchup pump while throwing my lunch bag away. I remember smelling an incredibly foul smell that was not unlike death, and cringing. Moments later a friend, Tom Higgens, pointed out to me, "Hey! i think you have some ketchup in your hair." Apparently some ketchup had dripped down from the pump into my hair and I still, to this day, do not know how I escaped that situation alive.

My other brother, Benjamin, was always the prankster of the family and loved to exploit my fear of everyday substances. His favorite trick that he would play on me was to spray some shaving cream on the doorknob to my room so when I opened it I would get shaving cream all over me and freak out. This was such a disturbing/disgusting experience for me at the time that I would usually end up charging towards him at full speed, punching him as hard as i could, as much as i could, and wherever I could. Unfortunately he is about 8 years older than me and I usually just ended up getting beaten up in the end.

Luckily, I no longer fear shaving cream because I am quite the hairy individual and I can grow a beard in a week. Still, the fear of condiments remains stronger than ever. I would say that, in the present day, my fear of mayonnaise has actually surpassed my original fear of ketchup.

In my post on April 7th, 2007, at 8:00 pm, I explained my mayonnaise test that I conduct on every sandwich before I will bite into it. However, that test alone does not render the sandwich edible. I usually will ask those around me for a second opinion. I also have noticed that I will often state to the people how deeply this fear runs and how isn't beyond me to use violence against someone who has tricked me into eating some mayonnaise. While this may be a stretch, one should take into consideration that they are not some older brother picking on a small child and that spreading false information about condiments to me in jest carries the risk of moderate to serious injury. Even close friends such as Ken D and Barbie Q, whom I care about immensely and would try to protect from experiencing any discomfort ever, should think twice before playing some sort of practical joke on me involving condiments.

Some people, including my mother, think tricking me into eating condiments will help me to realize that I actually enjoy them. This is false, and it is basically impossible for me to be tricked into eating condiments because I will not eat anything that I did not make myself without inspecting every last crevice. When I ask my mother for her opinion she always says things like "No Danny! That isn't mayonnaise on your sandwich." This usually leads to me yelling in a loud volume at her for being wrong/lying and has caused quite the awkward scene at many formal dinners in front of guests. In the rare case that a condiment does happen to slip under my radar and I do end up eating it, I just look back on the whole incident as a shameful experience.

for further reading on condiment phobias, go here.
http://www.salon.com/aug97/mothers/phobia970806.html