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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