Back in the day, I had a plate of poorly prepared shrimp.
I didn't know the shrimp was bad until later in the night when I developed a rash and began to feel nauseous.
For years, even the sight or smell of shrimp would produce an associative reaction that would send me rushing for the nearest restroom to rediscover what I had eaten earlier in the day.
(Ooohh look, corn.)
After a few more years of handling shrimp in restaurants, I was able to suppress the gag reflex and again enjoy a plate of this flavorful crustaceans.
I've often been told that I should not judge the Bigguns based on their appearance.
That I should treat every individual with common courtesy and as an equal.
But much of what we don't like as adults was shaped by our experiences in childhood.
I've never liked fat women.
Back in the day - I had a morbidly obese aunt steal part of my inheritance left by a grandparent.
After that, whenever I saw a fat lady, I assumed that she had to be greedy.
I had (have) a loud, fat, older sister who would always try to bully us boys when we were children.
Since I couldn't hit girls, I had to take the punches thrown by this insecure girl venting her social frustrations on us smaller boys.
To this day, I still hate loud, fat, bossy women.
As an eight year old, I was held down and forced to have sex with a group of teen aged fat girls for most afternoons of my summer break.
To this day, I am still repulsed by fat women and the smell of unwashed hair.
But was my disdain for fat women wrong?
Should I have adopted the tastes of those in the African country of Mauritania.
Should I celebrate the fatness as a display of wealth?
Could I cure my fat-hatred by prolonged exposure to fatness - the same way I did with shrimp?