A Disgusting Habit

...this is not something I am proud.

However, I am man enough to admit this.

In times of great distress and with consternation clouding my better judgment, when eating an apple I can forget to take the sticker off. Yes, at times, I may eat the sticker. It is shameful, I know this well.

In grade school, chatting with friends and involved in the pure delight known as school lunch, I would unwittingly throw myself without hindrance to the yumminess of my New Zealand apples. It was awful, seeing the muffled laughter and the rather glazed stares of my peers who really couldn't care less but for the slight gigglement as I tore into the sticker. Yet how could I face them the next day? How could I go on with a sticky stickiness in my tummy? I do not know how I did it, but I went on. Even more impressive, I do believe, is that I would always forget the previous day's eating adventures. I'm an absent minded fellow. If only it were as cute a moniker without the title of professor.

Yet, despite all that would prevent me from claiming an apple without the sticky, I pushed myself to remember those wretched sticky identifiers before I rejoiced in my apple. A titanic struggle it is, I have no difficulty in saying. Or rather, was, for it is not so hard now as it was in my far distant youth.

But now I can proudly say, I achieved and still lay claim to the summit of not eating the stickers on apples! Before piercing the good flesh of forbidden fruit, I triumphantly tear the sticker from shiny surfaces and placing it on the little depression thingie opposite from the stem. (Dude, I spent about 30 minutes, ie 5 minutes, searching for the name of it and came up in vain.)

Success and glory is mine!