Faulty Association

Back in my youth, for some unknown reasons which will not be analyzed here (got any ideas, Mom?), grapefruit became associated with diets and deprivation. So for years, I ignored them when I browsed the local produce section.

But one day, a year-and-a-half or so ago, a large, beautifully shaped grapefruit caught my eye. I picked it up, enjoyed the heavy weight of it in my hand, and decided to buy. The next morning, I cut it in half, admired its firm pinkish-red flesh, and tentatively separated a section to taste. Oh, my.

Now, no breakfast is complete without half a grapefruit. If I don’t get to eat one—because I ran out unawares, because I haven’t gotten to the store, because those at the store didn’t look worth eating—I am not a happy camper.

Weird, huh?