“Do you have a loyalty card?” the grocery store cashier inquires, his tone friendly. This part is genuine; he spoke real words. I hand him my card, he scans it, and our transaction begins. However, it quickly spirals into a mental debate, all thanks to my own insecurities.
This guy seems new, or at least I haven’t seen him before. He knows nothing about me, yet I catch him glancing skeptically at my frozen food selections. “What—those frozen meals?” I think to myself. “Sure, they’re packed with sodium and preservatives, but I only eat them for lunch. Maybe dinner occasionally, but not often. And yes, I realize it’s amusing that the frozen meals are right next to the ice cream. But I’m buying three types of ice cream, not just for me but for my husband and kids! So back off.”
The frozen meals and ice creams fit perfectly into one bag, which I hope he appreciates. I’m trying to do my part by bringing reusable bags, yet he seems to be judging me instead. I can almost see the disdain flicker across his face. Wonderful. I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“Look,” I tell him silently. “I see you rolling your eyes at the chicken nuggets. I get it. But maybe if microwaves hadn’t been invented, our kids wouldn’t have become fans of quick meals—ever think about that? Maybe you enjoy coming home after a long day to whip up a wholesome meal while juggling chores and homework, but that’s not my reality. And guess what? It’s not like chicken nuggets are all my kids eat. Look at that stew meat you just scanned over—yeah, I’m making beef stroganoff with that! I might not be sure if it’s the healthiest option, but at least it’s homemade. Plus, I’m serving it with asparagus. Yes, I know fresh is better, but can’t you cut me some slack? I’m buying vegetables! See those green beans and broccoli? Right there.”
Suddenly, I remember I’ve neglected to remove some items from under the cart. I prefer to do that first, having once been chased out of the store by someone who clearly thought I was trying to steal. The cashier thanks me as I hold up a 12-pack of diet soda for him to scan. But I can tell he’s being condescending—totally obvious.
“Honestly,” I think, “if you ever considered acting, you should probably rethink that career path. I can see right through you. And yes, the diet soda is just for me; my kids stick to water, milk, and the occasional treat. I know those juice boxes are full of sugar, but I don’t buy them every time! I make sure my kids drink plenty of tap water, which is just as healthy as bottled—no need to waste plastic.”
This cashier is really getting on my nerves. Honestly, it’s why I prefer self-checkout. And now he’s reaching for the cereal. Great.
“Okay, sugary cereal. You got me,” I admit to myself. “But just so you know, I used to buy those healthy Fruity Cheerios, which are good for cholesterol. I only stopped because they either stopped making them or this store did. If it’s the latter, shame on you! Don’t judge me for making a tough choice.”
One of the Lunchables doesn’t scan. I despise buying those, but thankfully, I only got two this week. Not so bad, right? But I can bet he thinks otherwise. I try to glare at him, silently screaming, “Yeah, my kids take Lunchables to school. What’s it to you? How old are you anyway?”
He doesn’t respond, probably because he’s finally at the produce section. I save that for last to avoid crushing it, but it’s also my chance to redeem myself. “See those grapes?” I want to shout. “I’m likely paying a fortune for those, but I’m buying them anyway because I love my family. Do you know how long I spent this summer chopping cantaloupe and watermelon? A long time! And look, apples and pears—I don’t even like pears! Plus spinach, peppers, carrots, and tomatoes. So there’s plenty of fresh food in my house, you judgmental jerk.”
Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. Is he giving me a weird look? Or is it the eggs? Could he be judging me for the—
“Oh come on, eggs? They’re good for you! We’ve gone back and forth on that for years, but come on! This is precisely why you shouldn’t judge me. What’s that? You say you weren’t judging in the first place?”
“That’ll be $267.85,” the cashier says aloud.
I pay him, and as he wishes me a good day, I respond cheerfully with, “You too!” I’m pretty sure I won the imaginary argument we never had, so I can afford to be nice.
If you’re interested in more related stories, check out this blog post on Cervical Insemination. It’s always a good idea to stay informed! For those on a journey of parenthood, you can find reputable resources like Make a Mom for at-home insemination kits or explore more about the process of artificial insemination on Wikipedia.
In summary, the next time you find yourself in a grocery store, remember that everyone has their own struggles and choices. It’s easy to make judgments from the outside, but what matters most is the love we put into caring for our families, no matter how we achieve it.
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