I used to dislike bacon. I'm not really sure when it started or why, exactly. It might be because my mom never really made it and my main exposures to it were the charcoalized strips my grandfather made, and the soggy unappetizing ones from summer camp. Maybe around middle school my mom started making it (apparently she secretly loved it all along) but would only get the pre-cooked kind, which didn't really help matters any.
But I have some distinct memories of being at summer camp watching my sister make up ditties about how much she loved bacon and realizing that I didn't really like it all that much, myself--and that this opinion was years in the making.
Years later, I was working in outdoor education (which is suspiciously similar to summer camp; let it never be said otherwise) and bacon was provided for breakfast.
Now, in addition to disliking bacon, I also refuse to eat cereal, biscuits and gravy, french toast, french toast sticks, ex-frozen waffles, mass-produced pancakes, oatmeal, and, well...almost anything else you would serve groups of 100 children for breakfast. Since there was little else for me to eat, I started eating bacon again.
Which led to a rather odd conversation I had with one kid who said they didn't like bacon, wherein I said, "Even I like bacon, and I don't even like bacon!" I promise we were only lightly teasing the kid rather than actually bullying him, but that phrase I said gave me pause.
How could I like something that I didn't like? So I started taking stock of bacon and my reaction to it, whereupon I learned that I LOVE BACON--but only if it's neither too crispy nor too soggy. It's all very Goldilocks of me.
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