The Confession
Nov. 29th, 2004 12:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
logicbuttonHello. My name is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flutingfrenzy. I'm from the Midwest, and I love grits.
It all began two years ago, when I first came to college in Georgia. I had never eaten grits before--in fact, I don't think I'd ever even seen them up close. I saw them in the dining hall at breakfast, and completely ignored them. Occasionally I would wonder what the appeal was.
Then I started going to Waffle House. It soon transpired that they had the best cheese omelets I had ever had, and it became my regular order. Because Waffle House omelets come with grits, I eventually started to choke them down, not wanting to waste food or money. Although this was only a handful of times, I learned to tolerate them. This was also around the time that I began to see sweet tea as a legitimate pop--yeah, that's right, pop--substitute.
The summer after my sophomore year, I went home. I didn't realize that anything was amiss until I discovered that one of the things I was looking forward to in the fall was Waffle House. Naturally, the omelets had quite a lot to do with this, but I realized that what I was really missing was the whole meal, grits and all. The complete absence of grits from my life at home became more and more pronounced as the months passed. By the time I went back to school, I was nothing short of excited to be able to eat them again.
But then the obsession began. For the past two years while I was at school, I had eaten bacon, eggs, and pancakes every morning for breakfast. Whenever they didn't have pancakes, I would have a waffle instead. But eventually I grew tired of waiting in line to make my waffle. I didn't want to deal with that, but I did want something to make up for the lack of pancakes. So on those days, I started to ask for grits. And all was well.
I discovered that getting grits instead of pancakes was easier too, since pancakes required butter and jelly, whereas grits only required salt, which was right there at the table. But it didn't keep me from getting pancakes whenever possible, until one day. The pancakes had been getting greasier, but on this particular day they were so greasy that it was like eating fried dough. For breakfast. Pancakes began to lose their appeal. And I started to ask for grits every day.
Although it may sound hard to some, coming out as a grits eater to my parents this Thanksgiving actually felt quite natural. It had just become so entrenched in my being that, really, staying in the closet about it would have been far more difficult. It was only then that I realized that I was, in fact, eating grits every day at school. It was surprising, but their surprise was positively jarring. And yet, I was actually proud of it.
This would not be a problem at all if I lived in Georgia all the time. But when I go home for Christmas in only a few weeks, there will be no grits in the house. I'll have to put them on the shopping list, and I have no idea where to find them in the grocery store. With the oatmeal, maybe? Even more worrisome, I'm going to Germany in three months. Somehow I don't think grits are a regular menu item there. And that is why I am now confessing to all of you, dear people who have read this far, so that future generations may learn from my example and not get too ahead of themselves in assimilating to other cultures, even those within their own country. Thank you.
flutingfrenzy. I'm from the Midwest, and I love grits.It all began two years ago, when I first came to college in Georgia. I had never eaten grits before--in fact, I don't think I'd ever even seen them up close. I saw them in the dining hall at breakfast, and completely ignored them. Occasionally I would wonder what the appeal was.
Then I started going to Waffle House. It soon transpired that they had the best cheese omelets I had ever had, and it became my regular order. Because Waffle House omelets come with grits, I eventually started to choke them down, not wanting to waste food or money. Although this was only a handful of times, I learned to tolerate them. This was also around the time that I began to see sweet tea as a legitimate pop--yeah, that's right, pop--substitute.
The summer after my sophomore year, I went home. I didn't realize that anything was amiss until I discovered that one of the things I was looking forward to in the fall was Waffle House. Naturally, the omelets had quite a lot to do with this, but I realized that what I was really missing was the whole meal, grits and all. The complete absence of grits from my life at home became more and more pronounced as the months passed. By the time I went back to school, I was nothing short of excited to be able to eat them again.
But then the obsession began. For the past two years while I was at school, I had eaten bacon, eggs, and pancakes every morning for breakfast. Whenever they didn't have pancakes, I would have a waffle instead. But eventually I grew tired of waiting in line to make my waffle. I didn't want to deal with that, but I did want something to make up for the lack of pancakes. So on those days, I started to ask for grits. And all was well.
I discovered that getting grits instead of pancakes was easier too, since pancakes required butter and jelly, whereas grits only required salt, which was right there at the table. But it didn't keep me from getting pancakes whenever possible, until one day. The pancakes had been getting greasier, but on this particular day they were so greasy that it was like eating fried dough. For breakfast. Pancakes began to lose their appeal. And I started to ask for grits every day.
Although it may sound hard to some, coming out as a grits eater to my parents this Thanksgiving actually felt quite natural. It had just become so entrenched in my being that, really, staying in the closet about it would have been far more difficult. It was only then that I realized that I was, in fact, eating grits every day at school. It was surprising, but their surprise was positively jarring. And yet, I was actually proud of it.
This would not be a problem at all if I lived in Georgia all the time. But when I go home for Christmas in only a few weeks, there will be no grits in the house. I'll have to put them on the shopping list, and I have no idea where to find them in the grocery store. With the oatmeal, maybe? Even more worrisome, I'm going to Germany in three months. Somehow I don't think grits are a regular menu item there. And that is why I am now confessing to all of you, dear people who have read this far, so that future generations may learn from my example and not get too ahead of themselves in assimilating to other cultures, even those within their own country. Thank you.
