Why I Like to Open the Fridge and Simply Look
The story of my love for looking at what people keep in their fridge.
This one is for my partner, my friends and also my mum. For all those people who calmly ask me to close the fridge for god’s sake ! and who deserve an explanation to my obsession with what the fuck is hiding in this fridge !
First of all, I know, keeping the fridge open is not great for the planet. And I promise, I don’t keep it open longer than needed, and I am taking very short showers to compensate for this bad habit.
Now, I think this habit started when I was quite young. I used to come from school and instead of going right to my room, I would open the fridge and simply stare. Not because I thought another world could be hiding behind a block of cheese. Not because I was hoping that a magical fairy would pop out of the mayo and let me skip school for a few years. Not even because it was a good way to avoid facing myself in the mirror. I did it because I felt safe looking at what I could eat next. This is weird, I know. But food has always been a way for me to connect to my needs, my wants, and later on, to others. It also quickly became my safe space as I was looking forward to the next meal when everything was a little bit too difficult around me. Even during dinner, when everyone was shouting at each other, I was busy with my food, examining it, enjoying it, and imagining what I would eat next.
It also became a topic of bonding for me and my brothers: what’s in the fridge? My mum would always somehow magically hear us, even when my younger brother had managed to open the door without a single noise — almost mission impossible. She would come down the stairs, look at the three of us with disappointment, and tell us to keep our appetite ready for dinner. But our eyes were already set on that delicious block of gruyere and our mouths full of crumbs. We would run up the stairs behind her and laugh at how we hacked the fridge.
— A few weeks ago, my brother visited me in Amsterdam. The second thing he did after hugging us was to open the fridge. I will always remember the look on my boyfriend’s face when he realized there was more than one of us. —
Later on, in my teenage years, I quickly saw depriving myself of food as a way to fit in as a woman. Well, let’s say it was shoved in my brains through magazines full of the next great diet and thanks to the delicious comments about “how I should be careful with what I am eating because I am such a pretty girl”. Eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, no longer felt ok. I stopped looking at the fridge and left the gruyere to my brothers.
A few years ago, I watched a movie of myself eating as a 1-year-old. I was the busiest eater you could ever meet: Fully focused on getting as much food on my spoon as possible and holding on for dear life to its handle. I also saw a video of me, holding on to the door of the fridge, while my mum behind me, was asking about what I felt like trying. It made me so happy. And then so sad. I saw the older, thin girl on other videos, the one that kept hiding behind a shy smile when asked to wave at the camera. That was not me, at all. I was hungry to be me again. I got up, opened the fridge, and stared at what I was going to eat next.
Now every time I visit someone's home, right after hugging them, I take it upon myself to check out their fridge — if they allow me to. I take that chance to learn about their stories on a deeper, more delicious level.
