Yesterday I stopped at Fresh Market after work so that I could pick up a few things. I mainly needed some spinach, but I also got a couple of apples, some sandwich stuff, and some coffee. Up until right before I got into the check-out lane, there was nothing really unhealthy in my basket.
Since my weight loss has gone from slow and steady to flat out nonexistent*, I usually look at the nutritional info of food I buy and I try not to get anything that isn't completely reasonable. I say "usually" because I'm human and sometimes sister needs some potato chips or something OK?! I'm not made of STONE!
So, I grabbed a bag of chips as well as a bag of the big, in-house made croutons to see what they tasted like. They only had big bags of them, so it was my only option. I also got Steve some, well, I don't know what it was, but it was one of those mixed up snack things I knew he'd like from the bulk bin area.
I get in line, totally not paying attention to anyone or anything around me - like I do - when the woman at the register right ahead of me says my name. I looked up and it was my nutritionist! You remember, the one who gets so excited when you're losing weight and doing well, and who looks like a punched kitten when you don't? I say hello, and we do that whole awkward small talk thing that people who only kinda know each other do when they see each other out in the wild. You know what I'm talking about. Right as she's getting her stuff to leave, she glances at the basket in my hand. She doesn't say anything, of course, but I see her looking.
I swear to you, time slowed down. It was like one of those slow-motion parts of a movie right before a bomb goes off, or bullets fly, or something equally terrible happens.
I also glanced down at my basket and realized that all of the decent, healthy food I'd originally come in to buy was completely obscured by potato chips, a huge bag of croutons, and a vat of snack mix. For all I know, she didn't really pay attention to what I was holding, but she IS a nutritionist and food is her jam, so I'm pretty sure she did. When I looked back up, she was walking away, and I came within an ace of running after her and screaming "WAIT! THERE'S SPINACH IN HERE! APPLES! HEALTHY STUFF, I SWEAR!!!!!!" Alas, she was gone, and I was left holding what looked like a 4:20 Munchy Run. Oy. I expect to hear about this at our next meeting.
So the moral of this story is: Now I have to go clear across town if I want potato chips, and Steve can buy his own damn snack mix.
*Seriously, I need to be in another wedding, or get invited to the Oscars, or something where I'm in danger of having my picture made. Apparently, the only working motivation I have is the fear of being fat in front of large groups of people. It's quite frustrating.