I don’t eat fruit. Can’t won’t don’t do it.
And I keep this a secret. Why? Try telling people you hate kittens. Or ice cream. There’s the blank stare, the doubt,
“but what about strawberries?” Yes. I hate strawberries. I won’t go near pear, I detest banana. Even sweet little guavas. Even perfectly proportioned peaches. Even that innocuous avocado wobbling on the counter top, fuliguline and faltering. Even that glistening apple cut crisp with a blade. Vomit.
Hey, I don’t mind rabbit-food: I’ll eat carrots, broccoli and tomato. I’ll even drink juice to keep the scurvy at bay, but fruit? Something -everything- inside me screams “don’t do it!”
Oh, they can bloviate on the “goodness” and “healthiness” of fruit, but I know that is not true. Not for me. Would you question a vegetarian? (
“Oh go on, I’ll scrape the meat off...”) Would you tease or trick them? (
“Ha, we’ll sneak some meat in...”) This is my socially unacceptable phobia. My horror. My kryptonite.
And I must stay strong in the face of doubt. Persistent and unyielding.
 |
| Before... |
Because while it means annoying waiters with endless menu dissection (
“are you sure it doesn’t have fruit in / on / around / beside it?”)... it is all worth it for one of my favorite things in the whole world: a triple-deckered, whipped-cream-wearing, chopped-nut-sprinkle-dusted, wafer-sporting, utterly fruitless, chocolate hot fudge sundae (as big as my head).
 |
| ...After :) |
Okay...I’ll admit it, something here isn’t strictly true... Can you guess?
Answer:
here
***
First Crusader Challenge
300 words or less:
• one secret
• one lie
• one interesting quirk
• one annoying habit
• one of your best character traits, and
• one of your favourite things in the whole world.
And must include the random words, “bloviate,” “fuliguline,” “rabbit,” and “blade”.
Keep kicking ass!
