My Food Problem

This past Wednesday and Thursday found me with an upset stomach. All that was warned against came to be true. Lots of water and a simple stomach medicine put me right back atop my form and Thursday continued without a hitch. I have been sure to steer clear of the tap water since my arrival, thus I have a serious contention with my stomach weakness, that being the weakness of the American stomach. How is it the strongest country on Earth developing the weakest stomachs? This chip in our armor psychologically affected me much worse than my stomach. The perception of weakness, of not being strong enough to handle Mexican cuisine has left me feeling like a giant baby. Now, I know this is often attributed to sanitary standards, foreign bacteria, and the like, but the damage has been done. I have to be looked after now by my superiors at work and the family around me so as to make sure my American needs are met to prevent further illness. And to be frank, I hate it; it is not the special treatment I like to receive. I feel my weak, American stomach has made me a liability. It can be taken as a sign of the superior standard of living found Stateside, that everything we consume is cleaner or better than Mexico and other developing countries. It should be deduced from my above sentiments that I tend to disagree. I see the inability for me to consume without concern here in Mexico as an inferiority, a vulnerability that exhumes a difference across U.S. and Mexican borders that dampers my experience and, again, leaves me feeling weak compared to a third of my North American counterparts. It could merely be a personal Achilles heal that I incurred this minor illness, but I do not think this for a moment, I am just attempting to flush out potential arguments that may disrupt my opinion. For my conclusion I propose we (U.S. of A) stop waiting for the rest of the world to play catch up to our way of life. Let us say “to hell” with the cleanest water on the planet for a while. Let us say “to hell” with butchering our genetically modified cows and chickens in a plant far, far away from where we consume them. I want to see my steaks and wings cut in front of me down the street in an open storefront. I want the vegetables I buy to still have dirt on them. I don’t want to buy bottles of water for the sole purpose of filling my ice tray. I don’t to be “afraid” of the food I eat when I travel to “lesser” countries.