Today at the grocery store as I watched my food items slide down the conveyer belt, I noticed a distinct difference in the food on my side of the little plastic dividing bar and that of the lady’s groceries in front of me. Her food choices were generally alive (or previously had been). Fresh fruit, vegetables, fish, eggs. I think I saw a squash. At least, I think it was a squash. The point being, what the heck do you do with a squash?
I looked at my choices. I will list them here:
1 large bag of Baked Sour Cream and Cheddar Lays (baked makes them ok by me)
3 boxes of Mac & Cheese, shaped like Spongebob and Pokemon (the shaped ones taste better)
1 pack of butter (for the Mac & Cheese)
1 bag of Tropical Skittles (a splurge)
1 gallon of 1% milk (perhaps the one substance in the world I can’t go a day without)
1 loaf of Italian bread (Picked above the other bread choices because it said “Italian”)
1/4 lb of turkey
1/4 lb Asiago cheese
2 boxes of Crystal Lite (there was a BOGO deal)
The bread, deli meat, and cheese (of the deli variety…I know it’s hard to separate it out from all the other cheesy items up there) made it into my basket because I happened to be craving a sandwich today. Otherwise, such things usually don’t make the cut. And truthfully, I didn’t even need to itemize my grocery list; I could have broken it into 4 categories…the same 4 categories my grocery list always falls into:
Sum nutritional value: Eh, as far as I can figure, none. But I take a multivitamin.
My mother is appalled. My friends, too, are horrified. I myself am disgusted with myself, but here’s the deal–I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve tried to change my diet a thousand times but I ultimately end up sitting on the couch hunched over a pizza or pot of macaroni and cheese (cartoon shaped, of course). I would love to eat like an adult. I look on in wonder when toddlers eat foods without a grimace that I can’t bear to swallow. Textures (and by textures I mean the natural ones- those of mushrooms, tomatoes, and (gag) onions) literally, well, make me gag. You could blame me for being dramatic (and many do), but I refer them to the physical reaction–prickly goosebumps up and down my arms and legs–and tell them to eat it. No really, please, eat it, whatever it is, I can’t stand to look at it on my plate.