Pork Chops for Supper

  I'm going to be stepping out of my comfort zone in a few hours and I'm a little nervous about it. No, I'm not going skydiving, learning a new language or even wearing a swimsuit in public. It's even more daring, at least for me. C is making dinner tonight and he will be cooking pork chops.  I'll be eating pork for dinner.( Unless I chicken out and make some mac and cheese.)
  This may not sound like a big deal, but it is to me. With the exception of bacon and sausage, I don't eat pork. This had caused many people I know to wonder if I am Jewish. I'm not.
  I've been pretty steadfast about refusing to eat pork for a long time. It's especially interesting whenever I go to a church dinner. The main course is always ham. For awhile I used to eat only the side items, fortunately I love au gratin potatoes. The last few times I've taken to bringing  a small container of a bean dish that I like to eat instead of the meat. This has lead people to think that I am a vegetarian. ( I'm not, but I do like many non meat dishes.)
  I've had numerous bad experiences with pork. The earliest one I can  remember is the first time I had the stomach flu. The last meal that I ate before I started getting sick was ham and green beans. For many years the smell of ham cooking was enough to make me seriously nauseated. Easter became my least favourite holiday. Around some holiday seasons the deli in stores that I've worked in would roast endless amounts of ham for customers. I remember working and trying not to retch as the smell of roasting ham filled the store. It's not one of my favourite scents, but at least I'm at the point where I can tolerate it.
  My second unfortunate run in with the pork was a few years later. I had gone into the garage at my grandparents' house for some reason when I saw a real hog's head hanging from the ceiling. I remember my terrified run back into the house and my refusal to go into the garage alone after that. It was several years before I finally worked up the courage to go into the garage alone. I'm not sure why the head was there. At times I wonder if it was a nightmare or something else. I've never asked my parents if they remember it.
  When I lived out on the farm with my grandparents', my grandmother would make bacon and eggs. The bacon would come the from hogs they had raised. Grandpa and Grandma used to overfeed the hog so they were quite fat. The bacon tended to be mostly lard with a small thin strip of lean in it. As a result the eggs cooked with this bacon tended to be nearly deep fat fried and rather slimy. Most of the time I opted for cereal in the morning, but sometimes was forced to choke down those slimy, lard covered eggs. (I'm not fond of eggs either. In order to get them down they must be covered with cheese or hollandaise sauce, in an omelet or slathered with Tobasco.)
  The last bad pork experience was in college. I had to take anatomy class and with that class was a dissection lab. We had to dissect fetal pigs. Being an animal lover,I felt bad for my pig. I also began to associate pork with the formaldehyde that the piglet was pickled in. For years just thinking about pork brought back memories of the smell.
  C on the other hand likes pork. He was raised on it and has not had any of the bad experiences I've had. Last week he bought two pork chops. I thought he bought them to cook at the church Memorial Day picnic. (I was working so I couldn't go.) When he didn't do that I thought that maybe he would cook them on a night I worked and eat them himself. No such luck. He has decided that the ban on pork in out home has gone on long enough. He think's it's time I gave pork a chance.
  I insisted that we have some compromise. We will be having baked potatoes with our pork chops and some lightly steamed cauliflower. That way I'll have at least some kind of meal. C assures me that all will be well and that pork chops are really tasty.
   We'll see........