Mini Me—Except She's Taller

It's a running joke in our family that Number One is a duplicate of me in a lot of ways, both superficial and substantial. The superficial ones are funny. During family conversations and sporting events and while watching TV, we'll often say the same thing in the same way. Just now, watching the playoffs, we both went "Ooh, niiiiice." Same duration, same tone. Her father and sister comment on it every time.

Last night, she had a craving for a burger with onions, so they got McDonald's. A while later, her father spotted her set-aside plate with one bite of hamburger on it. He said something about it, and she said she didn't know why, she just can't eat the last bite of a sandwich.

Her father gave me a significant, exasperated look and said, "I'm quite familiar with that."

Yeah. I never eat the last bite of a sandwich/burger/whatever that I haven't made myself.

We have different reasons for this. When I was a kid, we had a grinder restaurant next door. The ginders often had tiny bits of gristle or bone, and that made me gag. So for decades, I'd stop eating my sub/burger/sandwich if I hit something gross. If I got all the way through without a problem and had just one more bite, it felt like tempting fate. I couldn't make myself eat it.

Number One said the last bite feels like she's stuffing her mouth, which makes her feel like she's stuffing her stomach, which makes her feel a little sick. So she can't do that last bite, no matter how small.

How weird are we?