You would think I would have considered this fact when I moved to the land of barbecue and brisket known as the South. Even now with the prevalence of elimination diets, I'm still told that I'm the one who's eating habits are "weird" and "difficult." Imagine how difficult it was for me to eat out in 2010!

The very first time I was in downtown Nashville, I was working on a show that didn't have a budget for lunch. I was told that I absolutely had to go to Jack's. It was the days of my iPhone 3GS, so Yelping everywhere I went wasn't really a thing yet. Plus the guy who recommended it also went to lunch there, and I figured it was important to be social.

When we got there, I realized it was a meat and three. Well, actually, I had no idea what a meat and three was until that moment, but I quickly got the gist of it. My colleague who I have since forgotten (sorry!) ordered before me, while I scanned the menu to see if I could just get a three. Fortunately this was an option, although I wasn't particularly fond of their selection of sides, so I just got a two. Most likely mac and cheese and cornbread, because that's pretty much become my staple at places like that. Unless there's bacon in the mac and cheese. Because that's a thing.

I sat down across from my colleague and he noticed my meager lunch. "Oh, are you a vegetarian?" He asked. "Mostly," I answered. "But it's okay," I followed up with quickly. He looked at me with a mix of apology and wonder, as he pondered a life without meat consumption. It's a look I've come to know very well in the South.

If you know anything about me, you know that I love food. More accurately, I love getting food at restaurants. I also work in industries where I meet a lot of strangers. The topic of food often comes up, because it's more interesting to talk about than the weather. Very often I'll be told about places that have the best chicken sandwich in the state, or a burger that's absolutely to die for. And I just smile and sympathize with their excitement of recalling the meal. I'll even file it away so I can recommend it to someone later.

What I don't do is make a face and say "Ugh. I don't eat meat." Because I'm not really in the business of crushing spirits. And my dietary preference doesn't change the fact that such a place exists and the person I'm talking to has a fond memory of it.

This is what I think of every time someone is afraid to say "Merry Christmas." It's not an exclamation that says "here's this thing I believe and celebrate, and you must do so, too." The fact is, 25 December is Christmas day, unless you're in the 12% of the world that doesn't recognize it as a holiday, or the less than 1% that celebrates in January. And despite the consumerism it's become, Christmas represents a time of joy and peace. Who wouldn't want that wished upon them?

I get that for many the holidays are a sad time. This year I've had more friends than I can count offhand post about losing a loved one just within the past week. My heart goes out to all of them. And, personally, I've never really been a big fan of holidays in general. But unless I know for a fact it will offend you for reasons you're entitled to, I will wish you a Merry Christmas, just as I would wish you a Happy Monday or any other day of the week/month/year. Because I care about you and want to share the love. If that's not your thing, you don't have to accept it. But the kind thing to do would be to reject my declaration graciously, or show me a way to love you better. Sure, there are people out there who want to shove Jesus down your throat. But they're more likely to stand by and silently judge you than to open their mouths and give you well wishes.