What Bugs Me: Watermelon

I love watermelon. It's probably my favorite fruit. I wait for it all winter because the out of season ones have no sugary flavor. And the cost, Outrageous!

The first truly ripe ones make their way up the interstate from Florida to a Kroger near me around Mother's Day. They're worth waiting for because they have that sweet, juicy flavor.

I select just the right one at the grocery store, thumping it, admiring the brownish color on the bottom where it rested as it grew fat and ripe. Into my basket it goes, like a prize I've won. 

After cutting it up, I keep it in the refrigerator, eating, eating, eating until that one is gone and I buy another. Everything is wonderful about watermelons. The taste, the color, the texture. Everything. Except what happens after I've eaten too much too close to bedtime. That's when the watermelon passes through my system like a turned on water faucet and heads for my bladder, keeping me running to the bathroom all night. That bothers me.

"Would you please not send down a ton of water as I'm trying to settle in for the night?" my kidneys calls out. "I can't get a bit of rest for trying to process all the watermelon you just had to have." My bladder nods in agreement.

"I only had a bowl full. Okay, a heaping bowl full," I say, as I run to the bathroom, the need urgent.. "Okay, I promise I won't eat watermelon that late again."

"Remember, it's like drinking five glasses of tea or three cups of coffee," my bladder lectures me. "You have to put a hold on fluids before bedtime. It's a fact of life. Got it?" I almost hear it huffing to make its point. 

We agree and I keep my promise until - one day when I don't get my watermelon at lunch. "Are you kidding?" my taste buds say. "A small dish of watermelon won't affect your bladder." After it's eaten, my taste buds tempt me further. "How about a few more pieces. It's so juicy and sweet."

I think I hear a protest from my bladder, but I ignore it and plunge my fork back into the bowl for a few more pieces. After that there's no stopping until my stomach is tight.

As I run to the bathroom for the third time that night, my bladder is screaming at me. "Didn't I tell you? You never listen." My taste buds pay no attention. There's a million little smiles inside my mouth and not one of them cares a whit about what the bladder has to say.