For years I derided them, scoffed at them and bragged how I was above them. Never did it occur to me that I would become one.

I’m not talking about politics, or nerds, or jocks, but food allergy sufferers. We are the ones who awkwardly sat at a special table in the elementary school lunchroom, who impact what snacks you can bring into class and annoyingly ask if every single food presented to them has (insert food name) in it.

As I mentioned, I came late on to the food allergy scene. I always I knew that I didn’t like the taste of most nuts, so just as a rule I stayed away from them. And if I never really tried nuts before, I couldn’t be aware of my body’s dietary preferances. Not until I was a freshman in high school did I discovered I was afflicted by this devastating curse.

I remember the day as if were only this past week. Another student had brought in butterscotch haystack cookies as a snack the day before winter break. Naturally, I accepted one, assuming that the tan, sticky substance holding the delectable treat together was butterscotch, as the name implied. But alas, no, it was peanut butter, and shortly after my body was the first to inform me of my terrible sickness, that I was averse to something as common as peanuts.

Those who do not have to constantly ask at school, with friends or at restaurants, “Does this have nuts in it?” are possibly some of the luckiest people in the world without even knowing it.

The experience of having the tables turned on myself, now feeling as if I possessed an invisible red “A” for allergy plastered on my chest. This has opened my eyes to the very real problems that often go unnoticed.

My new peanut allergy forced me to look at the world from a new perspective. I had to ask constantly at restaurants, supermarkets and school functions if their delicious treats contained any of the deplorable substances known as nuts.

As cheesy a lesson as it may be, it’s true that one can’t truly understand the trials of someone else’s life, or is in the right to make assumptions about them without experiencing it themselves.

In all seriousness, the lesson remains about my preconceived judgments of food allergy sufferers and how they came back to bite me. I don’t wish to be known as “Gabe Bichinho, the guy with the peanut allergy”, but simply as “Gabe Bichinho”.

In the end, it feels great in a way to know that I’m not like most others. I can celebrate my uniqueness from most of those around me, instead of mocking those who are different in certain ways.

And no, you may not bring your chocolate chip peanut butter cookies to my next class.