When I was young, my maternal grandmother was my ally in battles with my mother. ("The enemy of my enemy is my friend.") Also, my grandmother hated mayonnaise, which my mother liked. Curiously, at about the age of five, I discovered that I hated mayonnaise as well. In my twenties, with my grandmother in a nursing home, and no longer an effective ally, and with me living on my own, no longer so subject to my mother's whims, I reluctantly tried mayonnaise again. (Someone served me a sandwich already containing it.) Much to my surprise, I found that I loved mayonnaise! Still, it was not until many years later that I saw what may already be obvious to you: "hating" mayonnaise was a weapon in my battles with my mother, and way to cement my alliance with my grandmother. (Who knows? Perhaps my mother actually hated mayonnaise, and only pretended to like it to bother my grandmother!) The entire time I "hated" mayonnaise, I never suspected that I wa...