Move over breasts; hello avocados!

Avacado

Image via Wikipedia

I have today returned from an awesome weekend enjoying what is labelled the “Cooper Fest” up north in Cumbria with my my partner’s relatives, meeting loads of great people and hearing various different stories. There was, however, one in particular story that was told by my partner’s, cousin’s, mother-in-law about avocado shopping….

She was explaining how one would go about determining how ripe an avocado was to see if was worth buying:

“…pick it up..squeeze it..massage it..tickle it at the top..smell it….”

Now judging from my posts you have probably guessed that I am quite crude and odd thinking so when I was sat opposite her at the dining table when she was telling this story, all sorts of things were running through my mind! I couldn’t laugh as that would convey to the other relatives I had only just met how immature and childish I was ;p

I can envisage young, innocent, naive teenage boys gathering to the fruit and veg section of supermarkets to ‘cop a feel’ of this item in practice of how they THINK handling women’s erogenous cushions should be done, rivaling the perverse nature of its fruit colleague-the banana. Maybe sex education lessons should feature this fruit alongside the banana to demonstrate how to feel up a boob…although this might put the boys off as breast aren’t green and don’t have a black lumpy exterior…

I, for one, am not a fan of avocados because I just don’t like the taste of them. I am tempted to try this method of determining their ripe-ness; not so much for wanting to buy them but to help me reminisce of the days of when my boobs were firmer and more pert before the joys of breastfeeding…

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