The Profound (and Ridiculous) Urge to Check the Fridge... Again
Every great journey begins with a single step, and for many women, that step is usually taken in the direction of the fridge. It’s a pilgrimage as old as time itself- or at least as old as snack cravings. There’s something deeply profound (or profoundly ridiculous) about standing in front of the fridge, staring into its depths, expecting some mystical force to have restocked it since the last time you checked. It’s almost a reflex at this point, an instinct so ingrained that even knowing full well that the fridge is as empty as our motivation to cook, we still go back, hoping for a snack miracle.
The phenomenon has become so widespread that it might as well be declared a national landmark. Women everywhere unknowingly set world records for the number of times they open their fridge in a single day- sometimes hitting an impressive double-digit count. If snackology (a totally real profession, trust me) were a science, it would confirm that, more often than not, absolutely nothing new appears in the fridge between visits. And yet, we persist.
The phenomenon has become so widespread that it might as well be declared a national landmark. Women everywhere unknowingly set world records for the number of times they open their fridge in a single day- sometimes hitting an impressive double-digit count. If snackology (a totally real profession, trust me) were a science, it would confirm that, more often than not, absolutely nothing new appears in the fridge between visits. And yet, we persist.
The need for snacking is real, and its serious business. Life is stressful, responsibilities are endless, and sometimes, a handful of chips or a suspiciously old slice of cheese is the only thing standing between us and a complete mental breakdown. The fridge, then, is not just an appliance- it is a therapist, a hope dispenser, a beacon of light in a world full of chaos. But why do we keep checking it? Because we believe. We believe that maybe, just maybe, a snack will manifest itself where none existed before.
A forgotten chocolate bar hidden behind last week’s leftovers, a rogue string cheese that rolled into the vegetable drawer- these are the things that fuel our unwavering faith. But like every other man, it manages to disappoint us every time. But, does that stop us from checking in again? Nope.
Of course, logic would dictate that if the fridge was empty ten minutes ago, it will still be empty now. But logic has no place in the snacking world. The real issue is that the fridge is our first stop, even before we consider looking anywhere else. Pantry? Too much effort. Cooking? Let’s not get crazy. Grocery store? Please, that’s tomorrow’s problem. The fridge is the answer, even when it provides none. And thus, the cycle continues.
A typical day starts with good intentions- wake up, be productive, and maybe even eat a healthy breakfast. But soon enough, stress creeps in, and by mid-morning, the first fridge check happens. Just a quick peek, nothing serious. By lunchtime, you’re in there again, hoping that something more exciting has spawned. By mid-afternoon, the cravings hit hard. You open the fridge again, sighing dramatically. Evening rolls around, and you’re back at it, staring blankly into the abyss, knowing full well that it holds no answers. The fridge has become less of a food source and more of an emotional support system, its mere presence comforting yet infuriating. It never changes, yet we keep hoping it will.
If the fridge were a guy, he’d be that one smooth talker who makes empty promises, whispers sweet nothings, and lures you in with the illusion of something fulfilling- only to ghost you when you need him the most. He’d be the type to text you “Let’s have a date at my house,” and when you arrive, it’s just a bottle of expired ketchup and a half-eaten yogurt because apparently, ‘sharing is caring’. “No, keep your sad little cup, I’d much rather have something filling”, you say but deep inside, we all know you’re going to look into the fridge and die of starvation because you forgot to hit Dmart on the way back.
Some have tried to break free from this cycle by meal prepping or keeping an emergency snack drawer, but let’s be honest- those snacks disappear faster than our will to exercise. And so, we return to the fridge, hoping that maybe, someone else in the house has gone shopping without telling us. The deep sense of betrayal when we realize they haven’t cannot be described in words.
There is also an art to fridge rummaging. You start with the obvious shelves, scanning for anything that even remotely resembles food. It’s exactly like that one raccoon who scans through trash with both hands at night outside your house. Except it isn’t a raccoon, it’s you even when you ate a full meal not more than two hours ago.
Then, you move on to the fridge door, opening jars of questionable sauces, pretending that a sip of juice will curb your hunger. If true desperation sets in, you lower your standards- leftovers from three nights ago? Maybe still good. That one slice of deli meat? Fine. Stale roti? Could be a chip if you believe hard enough.
And then, there are the people who actually cook. The ones who confidently waltz into the kitchen, chopping vegetables like they’re auditioning for MasterChef, smugly seasoning things with the flick of a wrist, as if they’ve unlocked some life secret the rest of us missed. Oh, you’re meal-prepped? Do you have fresh ingredients? Congratulations, you’ve officially made the rest of us feel like underachievers. Must be nice to have the patience to wait for food to actually cook rather than engaging in the noble art of scavenging. While we are out here playing snack roulette, these people have the audacity to sit down and enjoy a real meal. Unbelievable.
This universal experience serves as a reminder that we are not alone in our snack-driven delusions. We all share in this hopeless, hilarious quest. The fridge stands as a silent witness to our snack-related struggles, its door opened and closed countless times, its light flickering on and off like a judgemental glare. So, let us take a moment to honour all who walk this noble path, forever in search of a snack that doesn’t exist. And let us also acknowledge the real MVP- the fridge, for standing there (as if it has a choice), always waiting for us to come back (not talking about your toxic ex), because hope- no matter how irrational- is eternal.
Honestly, at this point, the fridge deserves more recognition. If we can name mountains, bridges, and old statues as national landmarks, then why not the fridge? It has been there for us in times of hunger, indecision, and sheer desperation. It has watched over us through failed diets and midnight snack runs. It has given us hope, even when that hope was misplaced. So let’s make it official- The Fridge- A National Landmark of False Hope and Endless Possibility. Someone get a plaque ready. Maybe then, it will finally start providing the snacks we so desperately seek.
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