Mayo-shaming: it’s a thing.

I don’t like mayonnaise.  Never have, never will.  There’s literally nothing anyone can do to convince me it adds majestic flavour to a sandwich or a hamburger or whatever it is people who like mayonnaise eat it with. It’s disgusting.  There have been times when it’s been awhile since I’ve had it, giving it the benefit of the doubt and thinking to myself, “y’know, I think I’m gonna try this mayonnaise thing again,” and then nope. Terrible idea. Why? Because mayonnaise is the worst.

Never mind the fact that it tastes disgusting – have you seen what it looks like? I mean I know you have, but I honestly don’t understand how anyone wants to eat it when it looks like this on a sandwich:

(This might be a slight exaggeration but tell me how badly you want mayo on your sandwich now.)

So, here lies my problem, and I know that anyone who dislikes mayo as much as me will appreciate this: basically everywhere I go, it’s automatically on the list of ingredients in what I’m about to order.  Now I know that I can just ask for no mayo when I place my order, I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember, that’s not the problem; the problem is getting funny looks from whomever is taking my order when I do; it happens far more often than you may think. I’ve had several experiences like this lately, which may or may not have sparked my reasons for writing this, so it’s time to take a stand.

I am tired of being mayo-shamed. Yes, you heard that correctly (and here first!) — mayo-shamed.  I’ll give you an example of what I mean when I say ‘mayo-shamed’ because in my experiences it’s not being shamed because I want it (duh, that’s why I’m writing this), it’s because I  don’t.

Me: “Yes, I’d like a BLT please. No mayo.” (I honestly feel like I have to yell this sometimes “NO MAYO, CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW,” etc, etc, etc.)

Server: “No mayo? Are you sure?” (Seriously, what the hell kind of question is that, of course I’m sure. Idiot.)

Me: “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”


Me: “Can I get mustard instead?”

Server: “Yeah, no problem. “So you’re sure you don’t want mayonnaise?” (I can’t even make this up it’s so absurd. No I don’t want mayonnaise, we went over this).

Me:  “Yep, I’m pretty sure.” (Honestly, come on now.)

The server presses her lips into a forceful smile and nods at me; if it wasn’t already clear how badly she’s judging me because I don’t want mayonnaise on my sandwich -that- sealed the deal.

Here’s the thing I don’t understand: what difference does it make to you, the server, that I don’t want mayo on my sandwich, and maybe another condiment instead? Sometimes perhaps nothing at all? When it’s the latter, THAT’S ONE LESS THING FOR YOU TO PUT ON MY SANDWICH; I’m making your job that much easier. You should be thanking me.

In the grand scheme of things I know how trivial this is: a first world problem at its finest because we’re nothing if not spoiled.

Mayo is the worst. Being mayo-shamed is also the worst. Now that I’ve gotten this off my chest, I’m sure I’ll find something else to get up on my soapbox for soon enough. I know you’re all waiting with baited breath to know what it’ll be about, but you’ll just have to wait.



Author: Jocelyn Aspa

early 30-something. journalist. sports fan. puns. cats. mental health advocate. not taking myself seriously (most of the time)

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