Juicy

As I walk into the garden the large melon had taken a prominent position amongst the leaves and vines. One could not miss the fruit, as it had grown to nearly epic proportions, at least in our garden it seemed epic. Compared to the tiny tomatoes, cucumbers and eggplants, this one large watermelon seemed gigantic.
My siblings could not wait to cut into the red, ripe flesh and sink their teeth into it. I, on the other hand, had no such desire.
Watermelon disgusts me.
Seriously, I am not kidding.
I despise watermelon in any or all forms.
The flavor would gag me if I were to unknowingly consume a lollipop or bubble gum sweetened by it. A Popsicle would be tossed into the garbage if the flavor was that of my most hated fruit. Fruit salad would be ceremoniously picked through with a fork or fingers if necessary, segregating the moist pink melon from its' more delicious counterparts.
"It just isn't right", my husband moans. "I just don't know how you can't like watermelon. I think it's unAmerican."
Consider me a traitor then because my taste buds have made it clear, watermelon is the enemy.
Watching someone devour a slice in the summer as liquid runs down their chin makes me roll my eyes in disgust. Cantaloupe or honeydew does not give me the ill feelings. I haven't met a berry I don't like. I even tolerate grapefruit in small portions, but watermelon, no can do.
As a little girl, I was taught not to spit.
"It's not lady like to spit", I remember my mom saying.
Having been scolded for spitting saliva or water at my sister I knew the rule, but with watermelon it was different.
Spitting is a requirement.
"Spit the seeds onto the edge of your plate", my mom would say.
"See how far you can spit them in the air" my sister would laugh as my parents would encourage.
This was one I could not get behind, and outright refused to comply until recently.
I push my two girls in the shopping cart as we navigate through the fruit section of the grocery store.
"What's this, mommy?" my three year old asks, gesturing her body towards the fruit.
"It's watermelon" I say.
"It's filled with seeds and mommy doesn't like it all". wrinkling my nose to mimic my disgust.
"Daddy likes watermelon" she pines, "and so do I. Can we get some mama?"
I give in and dump the fruit into the cart.
The fruit that I despise in all forms but will carve for my three favorite people to consume.
"Tell daddy that mommy likes pineapple, fresh pineapple the next time you come here with him" I tell her, knowing full well he does not like them and will enjoy carving that beast for me!

This post was prepared in response to Mama Kat's prompt "Describe a food you abhor".