Hitting The Pineapple Express
First and foremost, I would like to make a disclaimer that I dislike picky eaters, and I do not consider myself as one. So, it’s pretty logical to conclude that I would not hate a fruit enough to make a blog post about it.
You are right, I don’t. But I do dislike a fruit enough to make a face when someone offers me it.
You aren’t going to read vivid descriptions of how vile and repulsive pineapple is in this blog post (yes, it’s pineapple). Instead I intend to abuse the blog title to psychoanalyse how I came to be so unbearably picky about eating a particular food, when generally, I am an adventurous eater.
Can’t believe I am an adventurous eater? Case in point; I have been sick in various spots in Amsterdam city centre because I finished, with no reservation, a full serving of raw herring just because it was on my to-try list. Not to mention I was already under the heavy influence of cannabis to have any recollection of that day.
Anyway, back to the question at hand, why do I dislike pineapple?
Why are some people picky about food? Did you have a bad food poisoning case as a child? You have way too many food allergies? A traumatic freak incident with those peas? Your genetics made broccoli taste way too bitter? Or did you grew up in an environment where you had little opportunity to eat a balanced diet? Frankly, if your reason is anything else, you are just a spoiled brat in my books.
Contrary to what you might have implied, I do eat pineapple rather regularly, and I enjoy the taste when I eat. I can eat half a pineapple slowly if I try. But when it is offered to me, my first instinct is to refuse it. Isn’t it crazy? I thought I was crazy for a while but hear me out. It’s not a complicated story, its one with a single bitter scenario that repeats itself over and over till this date.
My dear mother measures the value of any action, object, person based on their utility. If sleeping was not an essential process for life, I believe she would stay away from sleep all together. When she enjoys something, it is a requirement for her to read up the benefits of enjoying said activity so that she feels justified in her actions. Using this knowledge and power, she also delights in influencing others to follow her suit, by any means.
As it goes, pineapple is the holy grail of all fruits in her Bible, a fruit God amongst other lowly edibles i.e watermelon, strawberries, lychees, watermelon(bc melon only makes you bloat apparently). In her eyes, pineapple can do no wrong. So one of the most dreaded scenes from my memory regularly plays out like this:
Mom: I bought pineapples, would you like some?
Me: No I don’t, but thanks
Mom: you should eat some
Me: I really don’t want to
Mom: why don’t you want to? You know how good it is for you. You are a woman, you need to eat it regularly all the more. It really cleanse your stomach of all the junk you eat. It purifies your blood. You period is irregular because you don’t eat pineapple daily.
Me: *silence*
Mom: I will go and cut some and bring to you.
Me: No don’t! I don’t want it right now
*2 mins later*
Mom: Here, I filled this bowl, that’s about half a pineapple. You need to finish it.
Me: I won’t.
Mom: *with anger in her voice* Do you think I prepare fruits for you BECAUSE I HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO? I PUT IN THE EFFORT SO YOU CAN BE HEALTHY. IT DOESN’T MATTER THAT YOU DON’T LIKE IT. JUST EAT IT LIKE YOU ARE EATING MEDICINE.
So with a sulking face, I would give up my protests, and menacingly chew on the sweet, juicy, succulent life-saving fruit. Do I hate the taste of it? No, it’s actually wonderful with a splash of honey. But you will never see me smiling while I eat a piece of pineapple. You will never see me say yes if someone offers me pineapple, despite the fact that I almost never refuse food offered to me.
I have always associated pineapple with the feeling of being cornered, of being controlled. The mention of pineapple makes me hate life. What is left is a great urge to rebel, to refuse it even when I know deep down I am so hungry for the refreshing yellow flesh.
This post’s meta-title is ‘A Fruit I hate and Why’. It is a part of my 31-day writing challenge series.
