Forcing myself to eat bananas
Sunday, 10 February 2008
OK, so for Lent I’ve given up extra things at lunchtimes.
OK, so for Lent I’ve given up extra things at lunchtimes. This means I can have a sandwich, but no nice cake from Firkin’s the Bakers, no crisps, or anything naughty like that. I can have as much fruit as I like, however.
This is fine so far as the apple goes. The orange is quite nice too, as long as it’s not the sort that squirts concentrated acid into your eye as you’re peeling it. I like the occasional kiwi fruit as well, so that’s three of my government-recommended daily five portions of fruit and veg, done and dusted.
I then gaze with envy at my lunch companions tucking into bananas. It all looks so exotic, tropical, and convenient, but I just don’t like the things.
Being really manly about it
It’s not the flavour, as such; it’s the texture. That floury softness catches in my throat, and just makes me want to retch. Disgusting.
Mind over matter. That’s all it is. If I keep forcing myself to eat bananas, I might start to like them, just a little. I shall let you know how it goes.
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