When I was a kid, I ate pretty well. My parents provided a lot of vegetables (some of which I liked, and some of which I spread very thinly around my plate to avoid), a lot of fruit (which I loved and very much still do), and a wide variety of fish, meat, and generally interesting foods at mealtimes. Scalloped potatoes? Thanks, Mom!
While I was busy eating all this good food, however, I was also stuffing my face with as much candy, salty snacks, and pop (call it what you like—in Michigan, it’s “pop”) as I could handle. I spent every waking minute that I wasn’t eating running around, and I certainly never ate any of those things as meals, so I remained generally healthy. All the same, I put a lot of horrible things into my body between the ages of 4 and 16.
There were some offerings, though, that I refused to eat from the moment I became aware of them. The worst offenders (for my parents, anyway) were American cheese(food) and mayonnaise. I’d tried them, and they weren’t compatible with my idea of deliciousness. And the more I realized just how common these foods were, the more steadfastly I refused to eat them.