Why I Hate Mayonnaise: Thank You, Stacy Corbin

The first sandwich I remember liking was banana and mayonnaise.  I can remember being very young, maybe three, and wanting a banana and mayonnaise sandwich on white bread.  I loved the combination of the sweet banana and the salty fat of the mayonnaise. As I write this I can even remember the smell...

As I grew older the banana and mayonnaise sandwiches stopped. I think one was left in our car during the summer in Montgomery, Alabama, which would equal a stinky car and the possible cause for me never eating another one again. I did, however, eat other sandwiches, and they all had mayonnaise.

I grew up in Mobile, Alabama, and when I started school, I went to the Julius T. Wright Preparatory School for girls. In third grade, I heard a story that changed my life, and sealed my current relationship with mayonnaise thirty-five years later.

I was eating lunch with my best friend, Rachel, when Stacy Corbin came over to our table (our class had three Stacy's that year). I really liked Stacy, but I had learned that eating lunch with her was like eating Sunday dinner with my cousins on my grandparents' outdoor picnic table. It was gross. She loved the see-food joke and she told really disgusting stories. She said, "Hey, y'all know where mayonnaise comes from?" and then proceeded to tell us this story. (If you love mayonnaise, you may want to skip this part, pick it up again at the asterisk.)

There once was this boy who loved mayonnaise. He loved it so much that he would eat it straight out the jar. He often got into trouble with his mom for eating all of the mayonnaise. One day, his mom brought home three jumbo jars of mayonnaise and warned him not to eat it out of the jars. That night, after everyone went to bed, the boy couldn't go to sleep because he kept thinking about that mayonnaise. He decided to sneak down and eat just a little bit. He ended up eating every bit of mayonnaise from all THREE jars. He was sleepy from eating all of the mayonnaise and went to bed.

The next morning he woke up and remembered eating all of the mayonnaise. He knew that he was going to he was going to be in so much trouble. He got ready for school and prepared himself for his  mad mom. He walked into the kitchen and his breakfast was waiting for him. His mom looked happy and was making his lunch to take to school. She was using the mayonnaise from one of the jars she had bought the day before! When he got home from school he checked and all of the mayonnaise was in the jars.

That night he snuck back downstairs and ate all of the mayonnaise again. The next morning, it was all filled up. He snuck out of his room the next night and the same thing happened. He was really curious what was happening, so the last night, he snuck into the kitchen and ate every bit of that delicious mayonnaise. Then, instead of going right back to bed, he hid. A short while later he saw a woman walk into his kitchen. She was wearing a turban on her head. She went to the utensil drawer and got out the biggest spoon she could find and put the empty jars in front of her.  Then she took off her turban. In the center of her head she had a huge oozing hole. She scooped the pus out of her head and filled up all three mayonnaise jars, and put them back.


I looked at my Vienna sausage and mayonnaise sandwich and gagged. All I could smell was mayonnaise and all I could picture was pus. I looked over at Rachel. She had also stopped eating and was a little white. She also looked pissed at Stacy. I "eeeewwwed" and Stacy left, laughing.

*

I have a rather vivid imagination and a very sensitive gag reflex. I have actually gagged twice while typing this. I don't eat mayonnaise on purpose. If it is mixed in something and the flavor or smell isn't prevalent, then it's okay, just don't tell me. Because I hate it. I hate the word. I want it banished from the face of the planet.

And that is the true story about why I hate mayonnaise.

heidi
written: 12/14/13

My first attempt at a non-fiction essay. I feel like Erma Bombeck, if Erma Bombeck wrote gross stories about mayonnaise.  I am completely open to critique on this one.