Reflective Essay: Peanut Butter

This was not the first time that this had happened. I have always hated the smell and taste of peanut butter. At one point it got so bad that when people ask me if I was allergic to anything I would tell them that I cannot eat peanut butter. However, my older brother knew that I hated peanut butter. He knew this because the rest of my family loves peanut butter. They would eat it religiously, and they would put it on anything. Every Time we would have anything with peanut butter I would know from a mile away. It would be worth holding my breath to make sure that I could not get harmed by that hellish spread.
I was in third grade and it was during after school care. I remember being hungry wait for the teacher to bring out what we could have …show more content…
I am pretty sure that I let out a quiet scream of fear. As the teachers call tables up I could see the teacher take a plastic knife and scrape up a glob of brown with a point at the top smeared over crackers. I wish that this time would never come but it was time for my table to grab snack. First my brother Josh sits up and fast walks over to get what he calls food from the angles. Next my friend Jake gets up and lastly Victor. I never get up, my body will not let me.
They come back and my brother happy reminds them that I hate that foul excuse for a food. I sit there hungry wishing that snack would have been a soft fresh bagel with the lightest of cream cheese, but there I was sitting next to three of my friends with the biggest of smiles. It didn’t take long before my brother asked jokingly. “Hey Alex, do you want some of mine?” as he shoves it closer to my face. My impulse reaction was to lean back in my chair it get it away from me but that wasn’t good enough. I …show more content…
Crying for help did not work and no one wanted to help me. I thought about climbing above and brute forcing my way through. I tried that and all that go me was a glob of peanut butter right on my nose. It takes a second before I feel the stickiness on my nose. I wipe it off as fast as I humanly can but by that time it has already done the damage. It was like I was dying, the smell was so bad that it make me lose functions. My hand and nose were sticky. The brown paste looks as if I would use it in construction. This was the last time I ever wanted to have anything to do with peanut butter. I let out one more cry for help on the verge of tears, “Come on guys.” I take a deep breath in forgetting I still have peanut butter on my nose. I feel my stomach thrashing in my chest. It must have been so loud that they heard it because they began to debate on if they should let me go. After a minute that felt like a year they let me out. I was finally