I really don’t like vegetables.
Unless vanilla milk counts as a vegetable.
I had this revelation on Friday night in the grocery store. Yes, I said Friday night in the grocery store. The good news is that I was not the only person who found Friday night grocery shopping their social highlight. But the bad news is that I was literally surrounded by food and couldn’t find a damn thing to eat.
This all started after swimming. It was 6 pm and there we, Chris and myself, were faced with the what’s for dinner question. Neither of us had a good answer. Until I suggested human kibble. I can’t take credit for this brilliant idea – it was my husband’s. Human kibble is the answer to all of your food needs. You need a high powered food that you’re happy to eat any time of the day. Enter human kibble. It’s portable, it’s cheap, it’s everything you need in one-fourth cup. You see, every day Boss looks at his bowl of kibble like it’s the best damn thing he’s ever seen. In fact, he eats it with such vigor that it’s like he’s never seen it before. Same kibble day after day after day. One-fourth cup in the morning. One-fourth cup in the evening. It never changes.
What’s in it that’s so good? Well, we researched the best kibble money could buy and found ourselves with a bag of kibble from Blue Buffalo that costs about 50 bucks and lasts Boss a half a year. Now that’s cheap eats! But he loves it. And according to the bag it has chicken, sweet potato and blueberries. Problem is that it smells wickedly like fish and leaves Boss with really fishy breath. So I’d like me some human kibble but I would skip the fishy breath. But then again if someone threw one-fourth cup of something in front of me twice a day and I almost shit myself with excitement about eating it – I might be willing to take the breath.
Back to Friday night’s dinner. Since human kibble is not yet available, I had an idea. Buckwheat pancakes. “Buck what?” Chris said. Pancakes made with buckwheat flour. Starky told me about them. I was on the phone with him one night and then went shopping and bought some buckwheat flour. Which to my husband turned into:
You went shopping with Starky?
No! I was on the phone with him then went shopping with Starky. Still Chris looked at me like I’ve been late night canoodling at the grocery store with Starky. Give me some credit here. If I was going to go late night grocery store canoodling with anyone I would be a little more careful in my selection process – it would not include Starky. And after I ate those pancakes I realized it would also not include canoodling with buckwheat pancakes. Seriously, I just took eating to a whole new level of disgusting with those things. I’m convinced I might not crap right for a week. I am also convinced I found the anti-pancake. You know how you eat pancakes and it’s easy to put down like 10 of them? Not with these things. I had to force feed myself one-and-a-half.
They really were that bad.
So I was in the grocery store because I needed something more to eat. Actually I just needed to get out of the house. It was 7:30 on a Friday evening and I said enough, I’ve GOT to get out of this house. First I went to Old Navy and discovered this very bad news: straight leg jeans are back in style. Short people of the world hear my cry. We are not meant for the straight leg. Second I discovered that I am too old for Old Navy but too young to roll myself into a grave lined with Ann Taylor clothes. So where the hell do I shop!? Third I loved Old Navy again when Lisztomania came on the speakers. I got really interested in Diva jeans just so I could stand around and sing along.
But really I’m looking for food tonight. Need to get to the grocery store. Wait, first I need hairbands at Ulta 3. And I just need to feel pretty. Any time I feel down, low or otherwise discontent I like to go Ulta 3 shopping. I don’t know. They sell things that make me pretty that I also don’t need. Isn’t that every girl’s dream? I found some fancy smelling spray stuff and hair bands and holy crap do you know what else I did? I TRIED ON HAIR! Yes, real hair! They had these headbands with either a long mane of brown or blond hair. I WAS A BLOND! And I looked….like a really fake blond with dark eyebrows. But the brown hair looked ravishing. I thought to myself I really need this hair because then I could walk around pretending like I have really long hair and then…I saw the price tag. $199! I don’t need this hair!
Damn Friday nights don’t get much better than this. Do they?
The grocery store was full of young couples. I felt alone. I still felt hungry. I need to eat something other than buckwheat pancakes or else about 500 yards into tomorrow’s masters practice I’m going to shout BUCK WHAT while running from the pool into the lockerroom as my stomach drops. I thought about everything I ate today realizing it was mostly in the bread group and realized…I need to eat more vegetables.
I looked at the avocadoes. Isn’t that a fruit? The tomatoes. Fruit. Peppers. Not before masters. Dark leafy…you know what. I don’t want any of this. I don’t want vegetables, fruits or nuts. I just don’t want anything. But as long as I’m here though I probably should pick up some milk. And then it hit me – I want vanilla milk. I don’t need it and it has way too much sugar to be consuming this late at night but…it’s the best sounding thing I’ve come across yet.
I grabbed the milk and then something else hit me. I am a grown adult. And if I say so vanilla milk counts as a vegetable. And who’s to say there really IS a magical number of vegetables we need a day. Or bread. Or dairy. Or any of that other stuff that is about as exciting as human kibble but a lot more expensive.
Ever feel like the rest of the population cannot stop eating food while we, as athletes, are always looking for something to eat? Sometimes food is so hard. How can I make it easier? I need a chef. And a maid. A wife, a dog nanny and a side of leafy greens that tastes like cupcakes.
Sigh.
I drove home alternating sips of vanilla milk with singing along to Lisztomania. Windows down. Friday night. Yeah, I’m living large in the 630.
Of course I’d be living even larger if I was a blond.
