I actually have no issue with this post. I hate fruit still. Unless we are talking the grilled pineapple at Tucanos. Fun fact: After writing this I actually got the worst food poisoning of my life from some cantaloupe. My working theory is that someone in the fruit industry read my post, realized the influence that it would have on the stock markets, and decided to taint my cantaloupe with E.coli. Seriously though, I have never been more sick in my life. I probably should have gone to the hospital, but I didn’t have insurance at the time. I do now (Thanks Obama). Well…until Trump takes it away (Thanks Obama).
Observations are like people. Some are funny, others deep and thought provoking, while still others are inspired and legitimately contribute to the human race as a whole. But in general, most are useless and an utter waste of time.
That said, may I present the first installment of Observations of an Anxious White Virgin.
I believe fruit to be the most deceitful of all the food groups. When I purchase a Twinkie, carrot, or jar of peanut butter, I can rest easy knowing that said item is (more than likely) going to taste the same way the last Twinkie, carrot, and/or jar of peanut butter did.
But such is not the case with fruit. OOooooooh no, not fruit. Fruit is cunning and misleading. Fruit is full of trickery. Fruit wants you to believe that it is something, which in reality it is not. It beckons you with its temping color, assuring you of its ripeness. It taunts you with its fragrant smell and passes each squeeze test you subject it to. And yet, and YET! inevitably, when you peel back its deceptive shell and take your first long-anticipated bite, you are left with a feeling not much unlike that of ordering and using a cream off of the Internet meant to “dissolve cellulite in the blink of an eye”. I blinked. It’s still there.
In short, you are left feeling misled, deceived, and utterly betrayed. For fruit, like women and peacocks, are often all show and no go. Sure she looks pretty Now, but just you wait till that carefully orchestrated mask of Mary Kay and Spackle comes off. Not. Good. And as for peacocks, all I need point out is their abundance of gaudy feathers and total LACK of aeronautical abilities.
And so it is with fruit. But I, like a fool, continue to believe the lies fruit tells me. Like a jilted lover who continues to believe the lies of an unfaithful ex, I return like a dog to its own vomit…(too much?)
When I enter the produce isle I can here fruits siren call. It says “You can trust me, I will be juicy and ripe and sweet, the way a fruit ought to be. The way that fruit was intended to be.” And I, that same fool believe the lies once more and make room for that most deceitful of foods in my hand basket, right next to the always reliable and ever consistent Twinkies, carrots, and jar of peanut butter. Inevitably however, this short-lived love affair with all of its encompassing hopes, anticipations, promises and so on, ultimately ends the way it always has in the past, with nothing short of total and utter disappointment.
But really, should we be at all surprised? For truly, was it not fruit which was the tool of that cunning serpent in the garden? And was it not by means of this same fruit that brought about the fall of, and subsequent expulsion from the garden of Eden, nay, of paradise itself? What more needs be said on the subject than this?
Judged. Juried. Executed.
After all, there are always Starbursts. Sweet sweet reliable Starbursts.