The Eternal Struggle

The Scene: The Kroger frozen food section
The Characters: 8 1/2 months pregnant lady and a random assortment of odd people you generally find in Kroger (one young mother with screaming child(ren), two old people who take up the ENTIRE aisle, one annoying person who’s standing in front of exactly what you want, and three overly friendly grocery associates who are convinced you can’t find the milk).

Preggo walks slowly by the frozen dessert section. Voiceover of her thoughts:

Oooh… gelato. No. It’s not on sale. Go get the chicken. We need chicken, we don’t need gelato.

Rolls cart away. Time lapse of five minutes. Preggo comes back through with cart filled with slightly more items.

Gelato is NEVER on sale, except for that nasty pistachio kind. Darn you, Kroger. OOOH they have mini tiramisu?! How cute. And there are four of them. That would last me… four days. Maybe. No, go get some greek yogurt and honey. You can mix that with granola and have that instead. The baby will probably be smarter if you eat that… smart baby, yogurt. Stupid baby, tiramisu.

Rolls cart away. Time lapse ten minutes. Cart is steadily getting fuller with random slightly-healthy items. Preggo comes back again, this time furtively looking over her shoulder to see if the associates notice that she’s back.

Ok, last time. You’ve gotten everything else you needed. No gelato, no tiramisu. You are not a lesser person because you came back over here. You needed to get frozen broccoli florets anyways, and there’s a bottleneck in the chip aisle, so it’s faster to get to the check out line through here.

They have Pepperidge Farm apple turnovers. YUM. Since when did you like apple turnovers? I don’t know. I’m pregnant, I’m allowed to have odd cravings. But apple turnovers? You hate the texture of mushy apples.

But it’s Pepperidge Farm. Anything they make tastes good. They could make dirt and it would taste like someone with love made it in a farmhouse somewhere.

Yeah, and it would be expensive dirt. We can buy Pepperidge Farm after residency. Surely there is a generic version lower on the shelf?

Oh, please. Everyone knows that generic versions of Pepperidge Farm falls into the same category as Kraft Mac and Cheese: generic NEVER tastes as good.

…You could halve the chicken breasts and tell Husband you bought organic…

… the baby wants it… I’m sure it’s got something that the baby needs to grow bigger. Such as… calories…


Preggo Lady hastily opens freezer door and grabs two apple turnover boxes. Laughing maniacally, she dashes (waddles) to another freezer and grabs the frozen tiramisu, throws it in her cart, and prances away.

End Scene.

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