Groceries

Skulks into the grocery store late on a Friday night.

Grabs a basket.

Scans the area.

Avoids eye contact.

Bags a few oranges.

Maybe some coleslaw.

Travels quickly.

Continues to scan.

And then, there it is: the ice cream freezer-case display.

Hones in.

Scans.

Begins to sweat.

Rapid heartbeat.

Eye-twitching.

Scanning, scanning, scanning…

Attempting to lock…

WHAT? There is no heavenly hash ice cream with its dreamy chocolate and creamy swirls of marshmallow?

WHAT?

Bummer. But this tub of chocolate chip fudge cookie-dough will fill the emptiness too.

Rushes to the cashier check-out.

And. Then. It. Happens.

Someone you know is in the line-up ahead.

Briefly consider other aisle (but that would be rude because eye contact has been established).

Place your groceries on the turnstile.

Attempt to conceal the ice cream with the bag of coleslaw specifically chosen for this purpose.

Fail.

That someone-you-know stares at your ice-cream and then looks at you with a sad little weak smile.   

Sheepish feelings.

Chit-chat.

And. Then. It. Happens. Again.

Someone you know joins the line right behind.

The food shame becomes too intense.

Your head explodes.

You want to say friends are coming over or I’m buying this for my spouse/dog/budgie/the food bank but then guilt rises up and finally you just confess to EVERYONE WITHIN HEARING DISTANCE what exactly you are buying and that you do indeed know that there is no possible excuse for purchasing this luscious tub of sugared lard-butter but it is what it is.

The person behind you pulls something out of the grocery cart.

It’s an 8000 gram bag of chips and a front-end loader of dip.

You have NEVER felt more love and kinship for another human being in your entire life. 

Am I right?