For 52 of my 62 years on this planet, I hated peaches. Absolutely despised them.
As a little kid, I ate peaches and peach-flavored candy with no problem at all. Then one day, after eating unpeeled peaches, I started getting breakouts around my mouth. Whether it was the fuzz, the skin, or just my brain permanently connecting peaches with irritation, something changed. Overnight, peaches became the enemy.
And somehow, in my child logic, that hatred also spilled over into the color pink. Anything the color of Pepto-Bismol instantly reminded me of what a Smurf would look like turned inside out. Once that image entered my brain, there was no recovery.
Even today, I rarely eat an actual peach, and if I do, it absolutely cannot be unpeeled. Yet somehow my brain has decided peach-flavored things are mostly acceptable now. Peach water enhancers? Fine. Peach Jolly Ranchers? No problem.
Apparently my taste buds spent five decades holding a grudge while simultaneously negotiating exceptions behind my back.
Crazy how the human brain works.
