Confessions of a Watermelon-Hater


Who doesn’t crave a pink, juicy, sweet slice of melon goodness? It’s the ultimate in thirst-quenching summer refreshment – especially during these dog days.

Not so fast.

That’s right, I am a closet watermelon-hater.

Despite being surrounded by melon-craving fiends my whole life (my sister foremost among them), I never really liked the stuff. Way TOO sweet, TOO juicy, TOO much work avoiding those annoying seeds.

I’ve tried to like it, honestly I have. Repeatedly attempted to convince myself – and others – that I was just a normal watermelon-loving kid. To no avail.

You know the drill. I was gripped by that vulcan force known as peer pressure. It hovered over my childhood, dictating what I wore, listened to, considered cool.

It ruled.

Thankfully, I’ve evolved a bit since then. I no longer have to feel sheepish for liking spinach or listening to Lady Gaga (OK, maybe a tad on that latter point).

Wish I could proclaim that I’ve experienced a total transformation into a bold man who stands up for what he prefers, regardless of the risk or cost.

But that’s not exactly the case, even though I’m gradually chipping away at the caked-on gunk from my youth.

So until I’m able to fully shake loose those ghosts of peers past (and present), I’ll be content in admitting I’m still not wild about watermelon.

Although strangely, I rather enjoy a watermelon-flavored sucker.

Don’t try to figure me out. Stronger wills have failed.