I don’t like pizza.

Having grown up in New York, publicizing this statement could get me into a lot of trouble.

To be candid, I’ve always cursed the fact that I possess this anti-pizza gene. Why me?

Every middle school pizza party and carefree order-in night morphed into an event of alienation.

But, being a pizza objector from a young age has taught me to approach obstacles with an opportunistic mindset. Every encounter with a pizza pie became a chance to innovate. For instance, stripping my slice of its cheese transformed it into something closer to focaccia al pomodoro. Or, being a hero of the people by rescuing their shunned pizza crusts.

As brutal as it’s been to be the odd one out out for not liking pizza, it has made me an outside-the-(pizza)-box thinker, and I wouldn’t change a thing.