You know you’re a raw foodist when…

Stealing Raspberry’s idea on Roger’s forum, I’m posting my contributions here. If anyone wants to add to it, leave the ideas in the comments and I’ll put them in and give credit where credit is due!

You know you’re a raw foodist when…

You don’t read labels any more.

You’re on a mission to try every kind of fruit that grows on Mother Earth.

A dinner salad in a restaurant is an appetizer.

You get banned from every “all you can eat” salad bar in the area.

You don’t burn your hand fixing dinner.

You pack your cooler as well as your clothes when you go visiting.

You know how to fix bananas 46 different ways (and counting).

You don’t drink nearly as much water as you once did but it hasn’t cut down on the trips to the bathroom.

The biggest mixing bowl you own has been turned into your personal salad bowl.

You dust off the sewing machine and take up your clothes.

Your compost pile grows at an alarming rate.

You don’t buy food in boxes and cans any more.

Your lunches of bananas and dates aren’t interesting to other people who used to ask “What are you eating?”

The blender is the most important appliance in the kitchen.

You’re glad you never got around to buying a new range.

Juicy Fruit isn’t just a brand of gum any more.

You don’t stop on the way home from work to pick up milk and bread.

You learn a new language–811rv, Optimal Raw Food Diet, proper food combining, sequential eating.

People you haven’t seen for a long time don’t say, “How are you?” They say, “What diet are you on???”

You visit daily.

You never buy clothes that fit. You buy them slightly too small so you can wear them longer.

You’re constantly thinking of “Ask Roger” questions.

Your kitchen looks like the produce section at the local market.

Your stove grows cobwebs like Phyllis Diller’s iron.

You are the produce guy’s best friend or worst nighmare, depending on the quality of the food.

You tell the cashier “Be careful! That will bruise!” and you get a dirty look.

You’re conscious of all the junk food in other people’s buggies.

You learn which cashiers handle your bananas with tender loving care.

The Date People love hearing from you.

Your oven is additional storage space.

You turn the top of your stove into a plant stand.

You replace the hood over your stove with grow lights.

You find out iceberg isn’t the only lettuce out there.

You eat until you are full with a perfectly clear conscience.

You don’t dread stepping on the scales in the morning. (I saw a cartoon in my ob/gyn’s office–two little girls were standing beside some scales. One was saying to the other, “Don’t step on that. It’ll make you cry.”)

You know that the female Date Person used to live in Cocoa Beach.

Your medicine cabinet doesn’t have any medicine in it.

You take your quart jars for serving smoothies instead of canning.

You say, “Breakfast will be ready in a second” and it really is–in as much time as it takes to peel a banana.

You go down the canned food aisle and feel like you’re in a foreign country.

You forget what’s in the dairy section.

You hoard your pots and pans so you can sell them on eBay after you retire.

You can tell by the smell of your sweat if you’ve violated The Rules.

The kitchen and the bathroom are your favorite rooms of the house, in that order.

Your poo doesn’t smell bad.

Your tastebuds cry for mercy when they are subjected to some of the raw “gourmet treats”.

You select recipes with the fewest ingredients.

You learn about foods you never knew existed.

You cut recipes in half or even less to “try before you buy”.

Your favorite Mexican (substitute Italian, Thai, Chinese, etc.) restaurant holds a memorial service in your honor.

The cooked food economy has to learn to live without your support.

You decide that your animals should eat raw, too.

You brush your teeth with soap.

You have best friends you never met–the people on Roger’s forum.

Your lunch has never been easier to pack. Bananas and dates.

You carry a wet washcloth in a baggie to un-sticky fingers while eating.

You drink a lot of your meals.

You never burn yourself fixing dinner.

Nothing you eat tastes remotely like chicken.

People say, “You are wasting away!”

You run your dishwasher about one-fifth as often as before.

You watch the Food Network to see what you aren’t eating.

Your recipes don’t say anything about baking, boiling, or frying.

Your siblings begin to envy you when the holidays are right around the corner.

The pounds you’ve dropped will never come back.

You walk down the aisle with all the small appliances and have absolutely no desire to buy a new crockpot.

You are as slim as you used to wish you were when you’d see your shadow early in the day.

You see an overweight person and you think, “Cooked food, cooked food.”

People give you fruit baskets for Christmas.

At first, people are interested in hearing about your lifestyle but after you talk for a minute or two, their eyes glaze over.

Your friends are suspicious because you’re smiling all the time.

You don’t have leftovers.

Your menu for New Year’s doesn’t include black-eyed peas.

You try to think of ways to turn your now unused potholders into a work of art.

The people behind/in front of you in the checkout at the supermarket say, “Someone is going to make banana bread with all those bananas!” and you say, “No, I’m gonna eat ’em.”

The cashier has to weigh the bananas in shifts to total them all.

You don’t wonder if you turned off the stove and coffee maker.

Your hair and clothes don’t smell like fried potatoes and onions (or any other kind of cooking).

You don’t burn your tongue when you’re eating.

You don’t make a list before you go food shopping. You buy whatever looks good that you can afford. And bananas. Always bananas.

You don’t have to be concerned about a grease fire burning your house down.

You move the “spatter shield” from behind the stove to behind the blender.

You’re thrilled when there’s a sale on bananas.

From Meleakua on the Raw Health Mastermind forum:

Your spouse complains that your breath always smells like grass. (Mmmm- green smoothies! 😆 )

You have a hard time shutting your refrigerator door-your fruit bowl and refrigerator are filled to overflowing with produce!

Me again:

You don’t have whale breath when you get up in the morning.

Your next major project is replacing your stove with one of those neat undercounter refrigerators.

My friend Shari posted these on another forum:

you don’t have a stove.

you never have a greasy mess to clean up.

you don’t have to paint your kitchen (because of grease).

you’ve got two refrigerators.

Me again.

You can’t use the excuse you slaved over a hot stove all day.

You trade in Rice Krispy Treats for dates.

You know all the produce people in the area on a first name basis.

You have the delivery schedules for bananas at the markets memorized.

You spend less time in the doctors’ offices and hospitals than anyone else you know. (Except when I’m at work.)

You suffer withdrawal if you don’t have time to exercise.

You don’t buy anything that lists ingredients any more.

You only shop the produce section and the toilet tissue aisle.

You host the Miss Fruit Fly Beauty Pageant and Annual Festival.

You develop a sudden interest in your poo.

You buy raw organic agave nectar in gallon jugs.

The cabinets that used to hold flours, meals, and mixes are like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard–bare!

You feel bad when you give all your “don’t eat anymore” things away–not because you’ll miss them but because you know that the person would be better off without them.

You get up in the morning full of anticipation.

“Tired” is no longer a part of your vocabulary unless you are talking about a vehicle.

You have that healthy glow without help from the cosmetic counter.

Your hair starts returning to the color it was when you were lots younger.

You love the sun and it loves you back.

You aren’t embarrassed if someone has to go into the bathroom behind you.

You dream of the tropics and men in palm trees throwing down coconuts.

You buy more mangos in a week than you used to all year long.

You don’t avoid looking at your reflection as you walk toward a glass door.

You remember how it was when you’d visit the produce section at ALL the stores just looking for spinach and couldn’t find any.

You are the only one in the crowd who knows who the Frederic Patenaude is.

You never have to wonder what to bring to a “covered dish” meal.

You donate your can opener to the local charity.

You are concerned about getting enough calories instead of too many.

Bob Avery of another forum:

You never buy Kleenex anymore.

You’ve forgotten what the inside of a drugstore looks like.

You rarely need to take out the trash. The rest you can bury.

You’ve developed a sudden interest in gardening and farmers’ markets.

Your relatives stop inviting you over for Thanksgiving.

Your washing machine gets less exercise.

Your medical insurance has lapsed, and you don’t care.

You keep your kids home on Halloween.

Bob Avery’s friend, Bob:

you’ve got a machete & ViseGrips in your silverware drawer for young
coconuts & macadamia nuts.

you never go to restaurants alone, and only go there for the ambiance &
company of friends.

your built-in microwave oven has become a cupboard for dishes & stuff.

Now it’s someone else’s turn! C’mon! Everyone can play! Just leave your contributions in a comment!