The worst part was they were right about one thing: I hadn’t always been like this. The reactions started when I was sixteen, like someone flipped a switch. At first it was shellfish. Then dairy. Then nuts. Then a list so long I started writing it down just to keep track.
The more the list grew, the more my family decided it had to be my fault.
Mom sighed like I was ruining her life. “Fine. I suppose you want your special plain chicken and rice again, like a child.”
Before I could answer, Kate jumped in, eager. “She’s doing it for attention. Remember last month when she claimed she was allergic to the birthday cake at my engagement party?”
I remembered. I also remembered lying in the bathroom that night sweating and shaking, trying not to make noise so nobody would accuse me of performing.
Dad reached across the table and put a small portion of pasta on my plate.
“Just try a bite, princess,” he said, like he was being kind. “This picky eating has gone on long enough.”
My heart started racing. The smell alone made my throat feel smaller. I could already feel the beginnings of that pressure behind my sternum, the warning flare my body sent out.
“I can’t,” I whispered, standing up. My chair scraped the floor loud enough that Mom’s eyes flashed. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“Sit down,” Mom snapped. “You’re twenty-four, for heaven’s sake. This is ridiculous.”
I remained standing, hands clenched so tight my fingernails bit my palms. “What’s ridiculous is none of you believe me. I’ve told you for years something’s wrong, and you won’t listen.”
Kate smirked. “We listen. We listen to your new food drama every single week. Last month it was dairy. Before that nuts. Now seafood. What’s next, air?”
At the end of the table, Mike cleared his throat. His voice was quieter than the rest of us, but it carried.
“I’ve noticed she gets really red and blotchy after certain foods,” he said. “Maybe we should—”
“Don’t encourage her,” Mom cut him off. “She’s perfectly fine.”
Dad nodded. “This is like when she was convinced she had chronic fatigue in college. Remember that?”
I remembered that too. I remembered a campus doctor suggesting allergy testing, and my parents waving it away like it was a scam. “She’s stressed,” Mom said then. “She just needs to sleep more.”