When I was 9, my mom put me on Weight Watchers. I was about 10 pounds overweight at the time. My dad took me to the meetings. Looking back, I think I was a ploy to get my dad to go. "Bob, Betsy's getting fat. I'm going to sign her up for weight watchers. You go with her. She won't feel so bad." Mind you, I don't know that's what she said, but I wouldn't be surprised. Anyways, WW 50+ years ago was a whole lot different than it is today. Frankly, my memory balks at the things I used to eat. One of those things was Brussel sprouts. And I *hated* them with a passion. Simply cooked in boiling water. There wasn't enough salt in the world to make them palatable to me. My mom started cooking them in tomato juice, in hopes that my dad and I would manage to get our 3 or so ounces down. Thankfully, she didn't make them that often. I swore to never eat them when I grew up. Flash forward those 50+ years... I'm at happy hour with a bunch of former classmates. Someone orders the roasted Brussels. I tried one. Oh. My. Gods. I won't say that angels sang, but I was completely taken aback by how much I actually liked them. I won't eat them boiled or cooked any way other than roasted, but at least now I'm eating them.

And just to segue off a little... I had a friend at my last job who called Brussel sprouts "wall art" because his mom tried to force him to eat them when he was a child and he threw a tantrum, which including flinging the plate of veggies at the wall... and they stuck. 3-D art.