Anyone who knows me will tell you I can’t stand bananas.

They are disgusting. They smell revolting, they look weird, and don’t even bother coming near me if you’re in possession of one. I don’t want to know about it, and I’m sure I can give our friendship a miss if you insist on eating one when I’m around.

However . . . it’s now I must confess I recently ate one.

I’m pretty sure most of my friends/family think I’m with child because there is NO other logical reason I would do this. Alas, I am not up the duff, but merely curious, and a wee bit health obsessed.

You see, it’s been 16 years since one of these long yellow fruits has made its way past my lips. I’m talking no muffins, cakes, lollies, smoothies – nothing.

I can tell you this because I remember the exact moment I decided enough was enough.

Nikki, aka mum, was a banana feen.

I had bananas for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I had them whole, mashed, cut into bits. I had them on toast, in porridge, on ice-cream and made into ‘chips’. You name it, I ate it.

I was just 11 years old when I made the life-changing decision. No more bananas.

I said ‘Nikki, we’ve got to talk. It’s about these bananas. That’s it. It’s over. I want to say that it was good while it lasted, but I can’t. I want to say we’ll stay friends, but we won’t. I want to say it’s not your fault, but it is. You did this. Now you shall live with the consequences. Oh, and also, don’t bring that s**t inside this house again or we’ll be having words’.

From that day forward they virtually became extinct. Well, until about two months ago.

I had been have a few internal food fights and was in a bit of a pickle about what I could and couldn’t eat. I had randomly thrown the idea of bananas out into the universe, and funnily enough it was Mr Knees who managed to sway me.

He sent me a link to an article, filled with an obscene number of reasons to eat them and I couldn’t deny myself any longer.

Bananas are like the God of the fruit world. They are packed with iron, energy, fibre, potassium and EVERYTHING.

Any-who, Mr Knees and I were strolling up the road a few weeks ago when he suggested perhaps it was time. I agreed and a banana was purchased.

We then made our way back to the busy carpark to eat the banana. He wanted to eat it in the car, but I was adamant that wasn’t happening for fear of the car smelling. So we stood in the carpark while Mr Knees peeled it. Then I refused to eat the first bit, and the bit after that. Until I found a clean looking bit, which had to be hand fed to me. No way was I touching it.

I imagine my face to be like that of a small baby trying lemon for the first time. But after the initial shock, I’ll admit it was ok.

Since then I’ve probably eaten about eight. Sometimes I put them in smoothies and sometimes I eat them with Greek yoghurt. Last week I ate a couple by themselves. I still don’t like touching it so it’s a bit of a process, usually involving a knife and fork and half a box of tissues.

Needless to say, while it might look strange, I am now a banana eater. I have faced my fears head on and come out the other side to tell you this tale.

Also I just feel super cool saying ‘I’m hungry, I think I’ll eat a banana’. People definitely think I’m a health god.