Growing up, I never wanted to eat meat. I would refuse to eat it, attempt to trade with my sisters for their broccoli, and was left alone sitting at the dinner table many a night, until I ate the meat that had turned cold on my plate.

My parents would remind me that there were starving children all over the world, or they’d change tack and say that I needed “protein” to grow. None of this would stop me from gagging.

Almost worse than eating the meat, though, was cleaning the dish it was cooked in. My sisters and I took turns with chores and when it was my turn to wash dishes, I’ll admit, I was a full-time malingerer. Mom’s infamous porkchops-in-canned-mushroom-soup would have me feigning illness and running to the bathroom in hopes that some kind family member would clean it for me and I wouldn’t have to touch the slimy, grey bottom of the porkchop pan. Ugh!

We don’t really eat meat at my house now, and I don’t have any chore that I avoid at all costs like that. Although, I think my partner would claim that I find putting my clothes away quite challenging!

Written for Bloganuary prompt 12: What chore do you find the most challenging to do?

Fandango’s One Word Challenge (FOWC) | January 12, 2023 | malinger

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