This is the exercise where we write the worst thing that could possibly happen if we refused food. I’ve had some pretty bad stuff happen when I’ve been genuinely not hungry in childhood – my mother screaming “You ARE going to eat that NOW!” It happened a few times, and made it clear to me that the needs of my body were secondary to her demands. Even though she’s a competent cook, to this day I hate both her cooking and her food style. I cook nothing like what she does, ever, as a direct result of her behavior.
Nowadays, I have a corn syrup allergy. Those cookies and that bread endangers far more than just my waistline: I could lose a day of my ability to walk, go into anaphylaxis, get huge welts on my lips. I have a longstanding hatred of people that try to argue with me about my allergies, too – “What do you mean you’re allergic?” one woman asked me. “You’re crazy!” Somehow, my allergy – something that is an involuntary biochemical process – was a sign that I was neurotic? I told her bluntly that no, I was not crazy, my allergy was quite real, thank you. I did not tell her what I thought of her character – but that combined with a whole lot of hateful coming out of her mouth that day caused me to think considerably less of her as a human being.
Now, if I refuse insistently, the worst scenario I could imagine is a group of zombie-like people screeching “Eat it, eat it!” as they back me into a wall. From there it breaks into the Weird Al Yankovitch video.