The First Time I Realized I Was the “Difficult” Diner

And why I decided to take the menu into my own hands

I didn’t always feel like a problem at the dinner table—until the night I ordered a turkey burger and asked for no butter on the bun.

It sounded like a simple enough request. I had recently learned that dairy was one of the triggers that could set off my psoriasis and psoriatic arthritis, and I was trying to be careful about what I ate. I wasn’t asking for a complete overhaul of the kitchen—just a burger, no butter on the bread. Easy, right?

The turkey burger arrived, looking perfect on the plate. But when I took a bite, something was off. I could taste the butter immediately—rich, unmistakable, and not something my body would thank me for later. It wasn’t a flavor I was used to anymore because I had been avoiding dairy for a while. That made it even clearer to me: this wasn’t just in my head.

I paused, feeling that familiar wave of hesitation. Do I say something? Will they roll their eyes? Am I making too big of a deal out of this? Is this just in my head?

But the stakes were bigger than a little awkwardness. If I ignored it, it could lead to a disruptive health flare-up—something that could derail my whole week. So I (very politely) asked the server to double-check with the kitchen, even though they were absolutely certain there was no butter.

You could feel the energy shift at the table. The sigh. The side-eye. Here she goes.

A few minutes later, the server came back, a little sheepish: the buns had been buttered after all.

No apology. Just a new plate, set down with a little more force than necessary. I smiled and said thank you, even though I felt small for having to advocate for myself in the first place.

That night stuck with me—not because of the turkey burger, but because of what it revealed. I realized that once you have specific dietary needs, you start to see how much effort it takes just to eat without fear. You notice how asking for basic accommodations can suddenly make you “difficult.” And you realize that sometimes, people would rather dismiss your needs than double-check a bun.

It took me a while to stop feeling guilty about speaking up. Now, I see it differently: speaking up is not being difficult. It’s choosing myself when no one else will do it for me.

Not on the Menu was born out of moments like that—moments when the standard menu didn’t fit, when the simple act of eating out became something that caused anxiety and I had to navigate carefully. This space is for anyone who’s ever had to ask, "What’s in that?" or explain, once again, why no, it's not "just a little butter" and no, it’s not "fine."

It’s not about what’s missing—it’s about everything you gain when you honor what your body needs.

You deserve a seat at the table, too.