Is that a sweet potatoe in your pocket, or are you happy to see me?

Maleah, my little sister, is a such a picky eater, her caliber of pickiness doesn't register on most scales. Her diet for that past 19 years has pretty much been pasta with parmesan cheese and broccoli with Parmesan cheese. This girl used to tell people she was allergic to chocolate when she was in preschool because she thought someone would force her to eat it.
Picky.

Well, now that shes in her freshman year of college two things have happened - she has branched out and started eating slightly more diverse food, and, shes grocery shopping for herself.

(By slightly more diverse food, I mean salmon and sweet potatoes. And because she never cared much for anything other than pasta and broccoli and cheese she never paid attention in the grocery store to learn things from our mom about produce and the like.)

Twice now Maleah has bought a full salmon with everything still intact. Eyes? Bones? Yes. How the hell do you not notice that when you're picking it out at the store?

But my favorite story is this; She told me that she had no idea what she should be looking for in terms of picking out sweet potatoes in the produce section. She felt like a total armature and was certain that the other people around her could tell that she was a novice. So for a few weeks she would pick one up, feel it around in her hand, look at it, but only so the other grocery store patrons would think she knew what she was doing.

She finally decided to take a stand. You're probably thinking that she must have just asked someone what qualities she should be looking for for a really great sweet potato. No, of course not. She decided that she would make up her own criteria for her sweet potatoes. So whenever she went to pick some out, she was simply search for the ones that were the most phallic.

And she no longer felt like a fraud.