A Victim to Conformity

I'm not exactly sure what custard is but I always thought that I liked it. For whatever reason I always imagined it was like the vanilla pudding that you fill Boston creme doughnuts with. I LOVE Boston creme doughnuts. So when I was in an ice cream shop in California and I ordered the custard flavored ice cream, I was expecting this delicious creamy, vanilla flavor. I was therefore, totally appalled and repulsed by this horrendous rotten milk taste I experienced when I had my first lick of custard ice cream. I could not take another bite. I was convinced the ice cream was made from spoiled milk. There was no way I could eat that. I was about to get sick. I wanted to tell the clerk the ice cream has gone bad but Trevor tried it and said that is what custard is supposed to taste like. I threw out the entire cone. Now I hate "custard."

Milk grosses me out, too. I grew up drinking milk with EVERYTHING. Milk with spaghetti, milk with pizza, milk with mac and cheese, milk with hot dogs, you name it. I drank milk with it. That all changed when I got to college. I came home one day super thirsty from a long work out. Went to the fridge. Poured myself a nice, tall glass of milk. Chugged it down. It wasn't until I took the glass away from my mouth and took that first breath in that I realized the milk was completely rotten. Gag. I have not been able to drink milk in the same way since. The only milk I drink now is disguised through the chocolate deliciousness of Carnation Instant Breakfast.

I thought about bringing some Carnation Instant Breakfast to Denmark to make sure I would get enough calcium, but I didn't. As a result, I have not consumed a single sip of milk (outside of my coffee) in the past week and a half. Lord knows I have eaten more than enough cheese to make up for any amount of calcium deficiency, but for whatever reason (eh hem: trying to fit in with local culture), I decided that today I will have milk with lunch. Again, because I cannot read, I just follow the fellow in front of me and do what he does. There are a few different colors of milk cartons. He picks the one with the cow. Sure, I'll go with the cow one. Pour myself a tall glass. Sit down with co-workers. Eating. Talking. Eating. Take a sip of milk. Breathe in. Panic!! Instantly taste that awful, rotten custard ice cream flavor!!! Repress gag reflex. Look around for the fellow I originally followed. His glass is half empty. There is no way this milk is not rotten. But I am watching him happily drink it down!! Ugh. Is this some sort of rotten custard milk that people actually drink(?!) Feel really awful.....I think it is. I have this huge glass of seemingly rotten milk in front of me and apparently to the locals, there is nothing wrong with it. I am too proud and slightly embarrassed to let anyone see me throw it out or know that I don't like it. Looking around, there is no place to dump it out even if I wanted to! When workers are done with their lunch they scrape their food scraps in the garbage, put the plate in the dirty plate tray, the utensils in the dirty utensil tray, and the cups they place upside down in the dirty cup tray. I would feel so silly putting a full cup of milk right-side up in a tray full of empty upside down cups. In an effort to avoid questioning or seem wasteful, I held my breath and forced myself to drink that rancid, repulsive, disgusting-smeling glass of milk. I am still not entirely convinced that it was not completely rotten.

Back to cheese and water.