madermouse's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1/24/03 The grocery store is like a war zone…each play carefully carved out of the best of intentions. I dodge the cookie and soda isle with the stealth of a well-trained warrior. The produce section provides a welcome barricade from the enemy, and I linger there….safe. Then I’m back in the trenches, fending off Valentine’s candy with its shiny red wrappers and glistening boxes begging to be opened and consumed until coco butter runs down my chin and my eyes glaze over in a sugar coma. The chip isle is never-ending, and I start to wonder if I’ll make it out alive without hearing the crackle of a Doritos bag under my arm. But I tell myself I am strong and I can do it, I’ve just got to forge ahead! I manage to evade the frozen confections, as they call out my name in a chilly, commanding tone. But no sooner than the Ben & Jerry’s cartons are out of view, the ice-covered pizzas begin to have words with me. They insist that I imagine golden brown cheese bubbling as I pull their crispy crust hot from the oven. I pause, momentarily hypnotized by the little boxes lined up in a row…they look so innocent. A bright yellow tag boasts “Buy one get one free!” and I gasp….such a good deal!! I watch as my hand clutches the cool steel handle and a gust of ice crystals blast my face. Yum…Pizza…. I scan the choices…pepperoni, Canadian bacon, or my gastronomical favorite - spinach, mushroom and garlic! I pick up a box the way a first-time mother lovingly and carefully handles her newborn, and turn it over. The nutritional information takes my breath away like a punch to the gut. Four servings per pizza with 430 calories per serving and 16 grams of fat makes it a diet disaster . I try to imagine myself eating only a quarter of this tiny frozen disk, and chuckle. I’m sure I’d eat at least half of the pizza myself…and that’s if I’m good! With this, I come to realize I have no business here. I momentarily let my defenses down and here I am in the freezer isle, fondling a pizza box and salivating. Dammit! Quickly, I divert my attention to the frozen fruit and grab a bag of unsweetened strawberries in an attempt to salvage my indiscretion. With a swift about-face motion, I turn on my heel and make a beeline for the checkout. (sometimes you got to know when to get the hell outta there!) As I approach the automated food belt, I stop in my tracks. I cannot believe my eyes. There, ahead of me in line, is a man whose entire cart is filled with candy bars. There must’ve been at least 500 different kinds of them there. He heaps them onto the conveyor and chuckles as every person within a 10 ft radius checks out his purchase. Comments are flying, “Hey man – got a sweet tooth?” or “I thought I was a candy freak” or “Wow mommy look at that man and his candy!”. I unloaded my food watched as the man proceeded to arrange the candy bars according to type. (i.e. 40 snickers, 25 starbursts, 70 twix bars, 25 mounds) Finally, I just couldn’t help myself and I asked, “So – what’s with all the candy? Conversation starter?” He replied, “Nope”. I sat in my own thoughts for a minute. What could a man want with all that candy? He was fairly thin and pretty healthy looking, so he obviously didn’t consume it all himself. I watched him interact with the checker looking for signs of mental illness. Then it came to me. I asked, “Are you a teacher?” He replied, “Bingo! You got it right. The more candy I feed them, the better they do on their homework.” Wow. And that’s the thought I was left with for the rest of the evening. This is the kind of society America is breeding…kids that apply themselves to their studies for the promise of a sugar rush….and teachers who buy 500 candy bars at a time. I guess the grocery store is a war zone for more reasons than I thought. 2:48 p.m. - 1/24/03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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