Swallowing potatoes

**BE FOREWARNED--this post contains a semi-disgusting story. Just go with it, because it really demonstrates my gist. Oh, and I will not tolerate judgment upon my six-year-old self.**

When I was little, I hated potatoes. WITH A PASSIONATE VENGEANCE UPON ANYTHING SPUD-LIKE. Ask my mom, and she'll tell you that she would cook 'em, and I would turn my nose up at every potato dished unto me.

One night, during a particularly disgusting bout of potato dinner, I was refusing to clean off my plate. No matter how much hamburger and cheese and whatever else you put on there, it was still a potato, and even at a young age, my taste buds would not be fooled nor harangued into the partaking of such awfulness. Yet, I knew I wasn't allowed to leave the table until I had finished what was there.

Now, I don't know why I did this, and looking back, it really doesn't make sense, but it happened. Ok? Let's all cut young Annie a tiny break. I must have wanted to leave the table badly enough, so I got it through my head that if I just held the potatoes in my mouth like a chipmunk, it would somehow not be as painful.

"Hmm..." you might be thinking, "That is pretty backwards thinking. Why didn't you just swallow them and get it over with?" Why didn't I?! Nope, there they stayed. UNTIL THE NEXT MORNING. Yes, I slept with potatoes couched in the back of my mouth, stubborn enough to not swallow them. When morning finally did come, I realized that I would still have to swallow them, because I knew it was a rule, and I couldn't break the rules. (Gasp!)

Fast forward to my life as of late. I've known for awhile that I needed to confront a certain life situation head on. That I needed to, in essence, just swallow the stupid potatoes and be done with it. Yet for some reason, I have shrunken like a coward and not faced my fears. I could hear people chanting (in not so many words), "Just do it! DO. IT."

What had me so scared? Wouldn't it be better to find out the reality of the situation and not build this fantasy in my head? Wouldn't it be easier to just know where I stand instead of creating a dream that never existed? Wouldn't I be happier, ridding myself of the anxiety this has been causing me?

As of last night, I 'swallowed the potatoes.' And they were bitter and gross and disgusting. But at least they're not in my mouth. At least I have come to grips with the scenario being what it is. Confrontation is never easy for me, but I feel pretty great about how I handled this particular life 'adventure.' I'm not happy with the end product, but at least I can hold my head high and be satisfied that I have done everything I could. No tears (ahem--yet!). No anger or resentment. Just a renewed sense of being able to move forward, on to whatever is next.