It's a Good Thing I'm No Longer Judgemental

I went grocery shopping this weekend.

And honestly it was completely uneventful, so uneventful that I thought wow, I have nothing at all interesting to write about this shopping trip other than the fact that the crowd of people surrounding the day old baked goods disturbed me. Do stale donuts and pastries taste better than cardboard when they are 50% off? Personally I would prefer to purchase full priced fresh baked goods.

Call me crazy like that.

There was no sign of the electric cart lady and I was wearing my flip-flops so I had good traction on the floors of the store.

I finished my shopping and chose the checkout that only had one person in the line. I pulled up and began unloading my things on to the conveyor belt.

The woman ahead of me in line looked at me, smiled and gave a little nod. It was almost a conspiratorial nod. Like we were in on some sort of secret. Only no one had told me the secret. Did I know her from somewhere I wondered, though that seemed unlikely since I don’t know many people. Even after living in this “neck of the woods”, as they say, for going on 11 years. I still feel like a stranger in a strange land. Like a person biding their time until they can move away to the place where they are supposed to live.

But then I realized.

The only things I had put up on the conveyor belt thus far was a box of Kashi cereal some bananas that happened to be marked organic, some strawberries that were also marked organic, a couple of pears and some cantaloupe. (I have a question, isn't all fruit organic)

She thought I was one of them.

In front of her, that I could see, were organically grown grapes, hormone free meat, Newman’s Own salad dressing, as well as an assortment of vegetables that I would be hard pressed to identify. I hated to disappoint her. But it had to be done.

I began pulling the rest of my groceries out from my cart.

What do my groceries say about me? I wondered. Suburban working mother who feeds her kids junk food, lets them consume empty calories and watch commercial TV.
The exact sort of parent I swore I would never be? Generic Honey Nut Cheerios, generic Captain Crunch, instant breakfast drinks, Little Debbies Oatmeal Cream pies, the regular meat that is laden with hormones and antibiotics and is going to kill me and make my sons grow breasts. Then I pulled out the air sats Honey Cracked Wheat bread. I did have a loaf of the Arnold double fiber Health Nut bread and thought maybe she would think that I was at least trying. But all she kept doing was pushing the separator bar further back creating a “SAFE” zone between her food and mine.

I wanted to point out the hummus and say something like, “I like falafel too!” or in the spirit of Mom 101, “Hummus is the people’s dip.” But that just seemed weird.

And anyway, from the look she gave me you would have thought that I had squirted my mouth full of cheez whiz and pounded back a warm can of Pabst Blue Ribbon right there at the checkout. She was revolted.

But the best part by far was when Wes came over from looking at the magazines his hand clutching a GIANT Butterfinger candy bar and grabbed a pear from the belt, held it up, and asked, “Why are you buying pears we have canned ones in the pantry.”
And really how do you answer that one. Other than the obvious, “how did that disgusting fruit end up in our grocery cart, take it away, take it away before it makes us healthy!”
I am sure she needed something to write about on her blog. So that was my gift to her.

Then I gave her a little conspiratorial nod. And fought the urge to pat her waif like daughter on the head and tell her, “I know that candy bar looks good. But I think your mother bought some yummy roots for you to gnaw on. Mmmmmmm, I bet you can hardly wait!”