An avocado virgin
To all of you avocado lovers out there — I apologize in advance. But your fruit sucks.
I was an avocado virgin until about 10 minutes ago, and I think all we’ll ever be is a one-night stand.
You see, my older daughter was always a Sumo-worthy baby. We nicknamed her Thunder Thighs. No joke. The kid had rolls as far as the eye could see. But, in the same manner in which my girls are night and day with everything from coloring to temperament, dear Daughter Number Two turns out to be a scrawny little thing.
During Cecilia’s one-year check up, her doctor even used the alarming term: “failure to thrive.” (Let me boast that my girl has done us proud with her milestones, hitting them all on target — her “failure to thrive” diagnosis is solely based on her weight gain, as explained by her pediatrician.) And so we have six weeks to bulk this baby up for another weight check.
Formula on the house, Miss Cecilia, so drink up! And besides that, I’ve been really diggin’ Google lately, trying to discover the most omega-3 saturated foods out there to fill her tummy.
In my efforts to get my kid some fatty fruit to add to her medley of unctuous meals, I purchased my first avocado ever. Three, actually.
Although, apparently if you haven’t been in the market for avocado before, you should ask someone how to judge ripeness, because inside, two of the three were the color of something I’d find in Cecilia’s diaper. Ew. We were not off to a good start. Thankfully three is the magic number, because the third avocado looked picturesque.
I cut a sliver off and was surprised by how soft it was — like a knife through butter. I cut a second sliver off for myself and simultaneously, Cecilia and I popped them into our mouths, unreservedly.
The texture was waxy, and although it was almost tasteless, the faint taste that it had was nothing short of horrible. For those who have never had avocado before: think a spoon full of Crisco, but with an aftertaste like dirt.
The gagging that ensued was reminiscent of my pregnancy days, but this time, the baby that was in my belly during those gagging episodes, was gagging with me.
We must have been a funny sight because my almost-3-year-old looked at us with an amused smirk on her face while saying “yucky?” between giggles. Meanwhile Cecilia and I had spit out the loathed produce, while I frantically peeled a banana, “I’m sorry baby! I’m so sorry!” I apologized, both of us with our mouths agape trying to avoid the after-taste as much as possible. We devoured that banana in five seconds flat! And then I laughed.
Oh motherhood! It makes you try things you never thought you would. Like one-night stands with an avocado.