Even at four years old I couldn't eat meat, dairy or eggs without having to fight the urge to throw up and I did actually throw up once when my mom made me eat some kind of Eastern European milk dessert. It wasn't just the taste that weirded me out but the fact that I was eating animals/animal products. I just couldn't stop picturing the animal dying whenever we had chicken. My mom would force me to drink milk in the morning and just before bed for some fucked up reason (up until I was 16, jfc) . I would down it as fast as I could and sort of hold my breath in the meantime as to not really taste it. We also had meat pretty much every day of the week, because my dad was a big meat eater. Everyday it was steak or chicken. I would always have one bite just to appease my dad and then I would start crying. Then they'd start yelling. I would explain how I didn't feel okay eating this and I would rather eat my grandmother's chickpea soup (that lived next door) or any bean based soup my grandmother would make. My mom refused to make anything other than meat or pasta with tons of dairy and cheese in it (idk why but cheese always disgusted me, taste, texture, smell, everything). This shit would go on for years. Everyday I dreaded lunch time because the same old thing would happen. I would have one bite of chicken after about an hour of crying and then I would start crying even more. My dad would say that if I didn't finish that they weren't any other options for me and I would have to just be hungry for the rest of the day. Like, Jesus fucking christ, I know kids can be picky eaters and you shouldn't just serve any food your kids ask for, but goddamn everyday for nearly six years I dreaded lunch time and I would be crying for hours asking for beans, vegetables, anything (also my mom "didn't believe in fruit and veggies" whatever that means). All I can say is thank God for grandmas. Else I would have died of hunger. Still I was pretty malnourished as a child, I can't believe I even have a functioning brain as an adult. Like, I must have spent at least five years of my life surving off of bread and tomatoes alone. When my dad died all this nonsense stopped (among other things) and then people ask me why I would say that I was relieved that he died. And yeah, I still don't eat any dairy, eggs or meat to this day. Don't know if it's the trauma or something. Who knows. One thing's for sure, when extended family asks about me being vegan, they usually ask my mom if I was like that even as a kid and I always chime in and say "pretty much! I would cry every time she'd serve me meat" and of course every time she refuses that ever happen and says that I loved meat??????