The Fretful Mother's Blog

Most times you can tell when fruit is fake. It’s got that shiny, waxy, plastic glow with the ridges along the seams. Real fruit doesn’t have seams, you reason with yourself; I should not eat this. But what happens when the fruit artist’s life’s work pays off and he or she creates the masterpiece that is the lifelike grape, apple or even tamarind?
How are you to know? You could wind up the idiot plucking fake fruit out of the air like it’s gold and shoving it down your throat before you realize your tragic mistake. Is that who you want to be? I sure as heck don’t. But I have to balance this with my fear of not trying all the delicacies within my reach. I don’t want to miss out on anything while I’m eating my way through Greece next week. I’m imaging they have their own version of garnish over there, and I could erroneously start chewing away only to find it’s the dreaded fake fruit. Then I’d have to decide which is worse: hacking it out of my mouth as all the locals laugh hysterically at the dumb American or just going with it and swallowing the dang thing? On one hand, you’d be publicly humiliated, on the other hand your last thought might be “did that plastic contain Bisphenol A?” You’re dead either way. It might be best to just swear off fruit and risk scurvy. You can never be too safe.

This entry was posted on November 12, 2009 at 10:03 am and is filed under Fear of the Day. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.