by: Jennifer Marie Jordan
When I was a kid, I developed an [tag]allergy[/tag] to peanut butter, something I loved to eat by the spoonful. While others ate it, mixing clumps with strawberry jam and putting it between two slices of bread, I stood by drooling; then, with a sense of defeat, I went to stick my head in my Easy Bake Oven. To me, there was nothing worse than being five years old and having a peanut allergy; it‘s the equivalent to having a wine allergy when you’re over 21.
