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I was rude to a friend of mine the other day. I didn't mean to be. We were nibbling on fresh blueberries and I was lamenting the fact that I couldn't find an organic blueberry farm nearby, when she suddenly got very quiet. "These aren't organic," she confessed. "Oh, all the farmers say it's hard to grow blueberries without pesticides," I backpedaled. It was then that the clouds collided in my head and rained a hard realization: I have always been a food snob.

1980s: Ethnic Food Snob. I'm on my own and have a real job for the first time in my life. I move to Seattle where there is a bounty of good restaurants: Korean, Cajun, Italian, but mostly it's Thai that I eat. I compete with friends over the number of stars we can handle. I snub meatloaf and potato salad and all foods "American." Can anything be so pedestrian, so banal?

Early 1990s: Militant Vegetarian. For about eight years, I follow a vegetarian diet with the occasional fish thrown in for protein. (Wait, fish isn't a vegetable!) I am adamant and indignant about my decision to be a vegetarian. When I first meet Jon, I tell him he should quit eating animals for all the valid reasons. He says he doesn't feel good physically unless he can eat chicken. I think it's a character flaw, but we continue dating.

1995: Vegetarian with a Low-Fat Twist. Not only am I not eating meat, I shun almost all fat. People who slather butter on their bread disgust me. I eschew chocolate and pastries but inhale tons of fat-free candy. Mostly I eat brown and white foods (read: carbs), with an occasional carrot stick thrown in for color.

2001: Return of the Carnivore. I'm pregnant and crave meat. My first foray back to the top of the food chain is a trip to Tony Romas, where I devour a full rack of baby back ribs while my husband sits across the table from me trying to hold up his lower jaw with both hands. Down to the bones — literally and figuratively — I know that this meal will give me something that beans and rice can't provide. (My husband never uses this against me, and that's why I'll never leave him.)

2002: Organic Smorganic. Now I regularly eat fish and chicken, but it all has to be organic, free-range or wild. I was right about my food before, but now I'm really right. How can anyone choose chemicals over clean? I also don't buy into all that low-carb, high-protein business. It's just another corporate conspiracy. I'm boarding the slow-food, whole-food train.

2004: Newborn Nonjudgmentalist. I'm going to try to keep my trap shut about food for a while. In fact, I'm going to take a little yellow rubber band and wrap it around my index finger to see if I can remind myself not to use the word "organic" for a whole week. Sure, I'm right, but I need to be patient and allow people to take their own time coming around to my way of thinking. Anyway, it's becoming clear to me that discussions about food and diets really must be lumped together with politics and religion — all conversation no-nos, except with strangers on airplanes.

Besides, I'm actually considering going macrobiotic.

And another thing: I am so glad that people are finally getting the connection between high fructose corn syrup and obesity!

Where'd it go? Hey, where's my rubber band?

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