You Are What You Eat

I wanna know what you're eating. What exactly it is you keep in your fridge and all those things that haven't seen the light of day in years as they've been trapped in the back of your freezer (that you keep meaning to clean out). I wanna know what's in your pantry (and what isn't) and just what you're hiding in the back of the cabinet behind that bran cereal you bought with the best of intentions and then never ate (because, let's face it, the type of people who eat bran cereal aren't the type of people you'll ever be).

I am incredibly nosy about other people's food.

Fortunately I babysit, a lot, and the one thing that every single one of my clients call out to me on their way out the door is 'Eat anything you want!', which sounds like 'Poke around in our kitchen all you want!' to me. So I do.

I couldn't care less about your bedroom, or your bathroom, or that study that looks like a hurricane recently swept by (or eight year twins, whichever), but I have to know everything that's in you kitchen, if it's edible. I'm not going to look at the prescriptions on top of the fridge, or the mail sitting on the counter, and I don't even read my to-do list, so why would I care you need to call you're mother?

I will however stick my head in your fridge and sniff your lettuce and those funny looking left overs that just might be evolving into a new lifeform. I'll shuffle everything carefully around in you pantry, and put it all back like I found it, after discovering that box of crackers that's been lurking there in the back since you moved in. I'll open your jars of peanut butter and shake your cereal boxes.

But I won't eat any of it. I very rarely eat anything from the homes of people I babysit, unless I'm cooking dinner for the kids, in which case I'll devour a couple of dinosuar shaped chicken nuggets and slurp down some milk.

It's not about eating your food, I just want to judge you based on it. They say you are what you eat, and while I think that's just stupid, what you eat (and more importantly what you buy and then don't eat) tell me a lot about who you are.

Half rotten vegetables occupying your crisper while half eaten cartons of ice cream sit front and center in your freezer? Means you mean well but don't follow through.

More Jenny Craig dinners than can honestly be healthy, means you're trying to lose weight but not trying to change your whole lifestyle to be healthier, basically, you're lazy.

Boxes of bran cereal that's actually eaten, organic vegetables and yogurt from Whole-Foods? Mean you're incredibly healthy, and probably a yuppie who doesn't watch cable. (An observation generally collaborated by the eight bikes hung on your wall and the obscure books on your fifty bookshelves (not that I don't also have many obscure books on many bookshelves)).

Fridge virtually empty and devoid of all sticky spills? You probably own a maid service and don't spend much time eating at home. (Or maybe you're compulsive about cleaning and just haven't gone grocery shopping yet).

A good balance of fruits, veggies, meats, and sweets? You're probably normal.

Oh and that person who keeps the crickets in their fridge. I really, really hope they own a lizard.