Why I Hate Raisins

I have a confession to make.
I hate raisins.

I hate them, hate them, HATE them. Grapes are delicious; I eat them as often as I can. But something goes wrong once they shrivel and ferment into wrinkly alien pod creatures. Every time I see a raisin in my granola it makes me think I've found a dead bug. And that's off-putting, to say the least.

What is a raisin, anyway? As far as I can tell, it's an vacationing grape that didn't put on sunscreen and developed wrinkles. I like to throw these food-tourists at squirrels. Sometimes I throw them at my friends to start a fight.

It's not as though I've never seen a raisin before. My father eats them often, usually in cereal or yogurt. They are a standard snack for the children I babysit, and my friends often ate them in primary and secondary school.

I...didn't. For no apparent reason.

It's funny to think about, but there's another kind of cereal that I 'filter,' even if it's for a different reason. Since I don't want to be guilty of product placement, I shall call this cereal Brand X. Brand X cereal comes with little marshmallows in it; I pick these out, to my friend's eternal frustration.

I guess I just like to filter things. I pick the raisins out of trail mix; I pick the peanuts out of cans of mixed nuts. I color code my chocolate candies; I make concentric designs on my cakes. When given a random collection of items, I invariably sort them, by shape, color, size, taste, or unknown preference.

I discriminate against raisins in a negative way. I discriminate against my food. It shouldn't make me laugh, but it really does. I hate raisins. They are wrinkly bugs in my salty granola.

I guess the next question should be, why do I eat bug-filled, salty granola?
I have no idea, honestly. It's a habit I've mostly kicked. But not completely.

Let's add that to the list.
WolfGrrl