For years the adage “You are what you eat” has been thrown around in some misguided attempt to make people eat healthier.
It’s no wonder most of the general public has gone the other way and chosen to indulge in everything deep-fried, cheese-stuffed or cream-filled.
Think about it, if you are what you eat, do you really want to be broccoli which is largely disliked and quite honestly, smells funny?
I didn’t think so.
If you’re like me you’d rather be something popular like pizza. If pizza was a person it would be the life of the party. The mere mention of pizza at a get-together and people go crazy to get a glimpse, or more literally, slice of the stuff.
Whether you’re broccoli or pizza, the entire “you are what you eat” adage is bologna.
The more correct saying would be: “You are what you read.” Or at least that’s what I’ve always found. My bookish ways have been getting me in trouble for years.
Whenever I read a new book I find myself acting more and more like the main character. Unfortunately, I don’t tend to read books about rocket scientists or human rights activists. I read about people with far less-commendable character traits.
I read about people like Bridget Jones.
If you don’t know who Bridget Jones is, you should count yourself lucky, or at least that’s what my friends say. I’m always catching flack for my love of the British “singleton” and her klutzy, clueless, relationship-challenged, ice-cream-binging ways.
After two best-selling books and two blockbuster movies, you’d think Bridget Jones and her beloved diary would get some respect. Nope. Instead, Bridget has been regulated to a “guilty pleasure” I’m often too embarrassed to admit I love.
But embarrassing or not, the truth is, I love Bridget. This is a good thing, especially since I’m pretty sure I’m turning into her.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been reading Bridget Jones’ Diary and its sequel simultaneously. This was a terrible idea as it appears to have influenced my thinking, eating habits and accent.
The other day I caught myself contemplating the purchase of a self-help book and I’ve wanted to eat nothing but ice cream for weeks now.
Fortunately, my Bridget overdose has had one positive effect: I now have a neat, British accent. Of course the accent only pops up in bursts and it’s pretty terrible but it’s there.
Unfortunately, I’m not in Britain. I’m in Kansas where my accent would be justified were I actually British, or have ever even visited the place, but none of these things are true. So instead of being a cool British import like the Beatles, I’m just some crazy Nebraskan girl in Kansas saying stupid things. For this I blame Bridget and her incredibly catchy and distinctly British catchphrases.
On the upside, if I really believed in the “You are what you eat” adage, my Bridget-like eating habits would mean I was ice cream. And well, let’s face it, everybody loves ice cream.