i blame my mother
December 1, 2009
Do you like apples? How do you like them apples?
See, the truth is, I DON’T like apples.
Oh, I WANT to like apples. How awesome would it be if I loved apples? My weight problems would be over. I just failed in my attempt to crack the deuce barrier, and so I figure I’ll try to get back down into the manageable, even ideal weight zone.
So I’m sitting here staring at the apple I brought for lunch. And I’m not excited.
Here’s my beef with apples:
1. Biting into them gives me the willies. I don’t mean I’m scared, I mean I get a shiver when I bite an apple. I don’t know why. This does not happen with other fruit. Or other food, even. Not even squid.
2. When I bite into a firm apple (really, the only kind you want to eat), the skin pushes past my teeth and gouges my gums. Admittedly, I am old, and my gums ain’t what they used to be. But still, I would expect the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil to treat me better than this.
3. The skin of an apple is ready-made for wedging in between teeth. Tightly. Not the kind of wedging that casual picking will remove–you need floss. Or, in my case here at work, a straightened paper clip. Which presents its own problems.
Apples give a satisfying crunch when you bite them (good apples do–bad apples slither, they don’t crunch. Slithering is almost never good.) Apples are good for you. Apples are pretty cheap. And very portable.
What’s the key here? Volume? Do I just eat apples until I love them, or will that drive me farther into my apple antipathy? It’s a dilemma, a word which here means hunger.
And while we’re here, I feel similarly about carrots. I blame my mother.