Do Not Judge Me Based on My Impulse Purchases
Today on my way home from work I stopped at the grocery store. It wasn’t a full shopping-for-the-week grocery run, it was a milk/oreoes/yogurt run. In and out in twenty minutes for twenty bucks.
It was while I was standing in the check-out line that I noticed the woman in front was raising an eyebrow at me. At me, and my purchases. Whatever. She was the middle-aged matronly type, the sort whom I regularly and effortless offend for far worse reasons than my eating habits. In other words, I’m used to ignoring this sort of attention.
However when I turned around and saw the twentysomething guy behind me casting The Eyes of Judgment at my grocery cart, I began to feel self-conscious. Sure, all he had were orange juice, beer, and cereal, but he’s a guy. The grocery standards are different for single guys… it’s more like Congratulations! You’re eating something that doesn’t come from a drive-thru window! Here’s a gold star and a lime wedge for your Tecate!
For chicks, we supposedly know better. I mean, I do know better. But sometimes I just don’t give a fuck. Like tonight, for instance:
