Bananas about Bananas


I hate bananas.  I just hate them.  I hate spelling the word banana.  I hate having to spend time going over if I put one too many n’s in there.  I hate bananas so much that I might even loathe them, which is an even more intimate relationship than hate; and that’s kind of uncomfortable, which makes me even madder.

Bananas actually bring me pain.  Even writing this is an exercise in agony because I have to keep writing the stupid word banana.

Yet, I keep eating them.  And this is a mystery to me that I cannot unravel.  I just always gravitate to eating bananas even though I despise them!  It’s not that I just kind of don’t like them; I abhor them.  I hate the smell. the taste.  the texture, GOD the texture, kill me gag me ugh.  I hate peeling them (and YES, I know the “correct” way to peel them).  I hate knowing that after I eat one and throw the peel in the trash that I will have to smell its underlying insidious odor the entire day reminding  me that not only do bananas suck but that I have yet again succumbed to the banana cult.

But why?  Why do I reach for that banana as my daily snack or breakfast item when my head is saying “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO”???

As I ponder, I realize that I am always being told to do the thing I don’t want to do because it’s “good for you.”  Or to do the things that are hard because “it will make you stronger.” The drill seems to be in the case of the dreaded banana that:

bananas are good for you; you hate bananas; eating them is really hard for you; you should not avoid things that are hard for you because  avoiding hardship is worse for you; you should eat bananas.”

Where did this messed up crap come from and how do I stop it?

Is this because I’m a first born?

Honestly, I’m confused and now saddened by this whole mess.

To make matters worse, something also says to me that “everyone else seems to like bananas, why don’t you?  Why can’t you be like everyone else?  Look how happy they are eating the wonderful banana!”  And so I reach for that stupid banana.  I peel it, hating it all the time, and I eat it and smell it and nearly gag.

How many other things do I do in life because someone told me

  • It’s good for me
  • Do the thing you hate cause that must be the thing that will make you stronger
  • It’s what everyone is doing?

Why can’t I be critically minded about these banana times in my life where I follow the same prescriptions about any of a number of things that, well, that just really suck and are nominally good for me at best?  Countless, I assume.  And I’m going to spend some time looking around at what those things are.  Maybe I’ll report back here on it.  Maybe you could share the things you find you do mindlessly like I eat bananas.

In the meantime, the only admonition about bananas I’m going to follow from now on is that a fisherman should never ever bring a banana on board the boat.  It’s bad luck and you’ll never catch a damn fish.  Of course, a few years ago, prior to hearing this desperate warning, I brought a banana on my and my friend’s boat while salmon fishing in Oregon.  I took the hated banana out (I, of course, was cursing the banana out loud because I hate bananas so much) and peeled its nastiness and my friend literally yelped that I HAD TO GET RID OF THE BANANA!  It was bad luck. Well, I ate the damn thing anyway, despite the new bad luck rule and despite me hating that society shames me into eating it because it’s good for me.  And about five minutes later I caught the biggest salmon of my life.

You know what.  Screw the rules and what society says.  Bananas suck and I don’t have to eat them.  Except, of course, when I’m fishing.

Be true to thine own selves people.

 

 

 

 

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