I am a self-admitted melon-thumper. Last week I came across directions in a magazine on how to choose a ripe watermelon: look for a melon that feels heavy for its size and has a nice creamy spot to show for its time spent on the ground while basking in the sun. Nothing about putting one’s ear up to it and giving it a good whack to determine how hallow it sounds.
Armed with this new knowledge, I went to the grocery store and cautiously approached the watermelon crate. Having resolved in my mind not to thump any melons, I plucked one from its resting place. As soon as I picked it up I realized something: at nine o’clock at night, after a long day, all watermelons feel heavy. I’m not really sure if it felt heavy for its size because I don’t think that I understand what that means in the first place.
There did come a point when I had to fight off the urge to revert to my melon-thumping self. It helped that there was another lady picking through the crate at the time: she didn’t seem the type to understand my tendencies.
I felt vindicated, however, when I sliced into this particular melon and it was not up to par. Most people, I’m sure, would have felt the tug of disappointment when the rind was cut away to reveal tepid pink color instead of a dark juicy red. Not me. I now feel free to go back to happily whacking my watermelons. As long as there isn’t anyone watching. I like to thump those melons in private, and don’t appreciate being sniggered at.
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3 years ago