I went to a luncheon on Saturday and sat near the thinnest – skinniest! – woman I have ever seen outside of a newsreel. The expression “skin and bones” was probably coined to describe this gal. Not only was she painfully thin, but she had very short hair and wore a tichel over it. Honestly, with her tattoos and all the rest of it, she might have been a concentration camp survivor.
While the rest of us were eating she sipped a cup of tea. When I offered her a sandwich, she demurred. “There’s nothing here I like.” We had chicken salad, egg salad, cucumber on brown bread, and two or three sorts of cheese, on white bread, sliced into “fingers”. Even I found something to eat, and I don’t eat meat. She must not have found anything she liked for a loooong time.
The adage that eventually a picky eater will decide to eat doesn’t always hold true.
thisendoftheswamp 
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