I was fine when I walked into the supermarket. I had my list. I knew we needed dishwasher tablets and margarine, as well as everything else. I’d done the journey so often, it almost feels like a safe place.
Standing in the fruit and vegetable section I had the familiar moment of indecision. Did I want lettuce or rocket? Maybe I should try kale again or perhaps some spears of asparagus? Seriously, do I have to worry about what to have for dinner every frigging night? Even my husband, the cook of the house, has grown tired of my constant questions about what to buy at the supermarket. “Just get whatever,” he says.
Each week, after a few glasses of wine, we vow to look in our cookbooks and come up with new ideas. We don’t. Sometimes I look at other people’s meal plans, but even the thought of writing out a meal plan bores me.
Fuck it, I grab the lettuce and the rocket. And throw in the asparagus spears, for some variety. Not that it’s even a new idea; we had the asparagus, dill, potato, lettuce salad last week. We’ll just do it again. Just like schnitzel.
I think I’d already lost my will to make any more decisions and I hadn’t even made it to the meat or dairy sections yet. Perhaps we’d become vegan, at least it would cut down the amount of aisles I’d have to walk down.
Slowly I made my way around the supermarket, I was kid-free so I was able to wander. Except, when I got to the bread I had to quickly grab a loaf and speed up to get away from the “aisle blocker”. You know them? They put their trolly in the most awkward spots and no matter what you do they always manage to be in your way, in every aisle. How do they do that? The only thing to do is out shop them. So I did. I wasn’t wasting my quiet time, being irritated by some stranger’s reckless trolley placement.
I finally found myself at the checkout. I’d made it. Unenthusiastically, I began to place my items on the counter. Is there any other way? I mean no matter what I put there it will always cost me way more than I think.
Each item was so useful. Toilet paper, in bulk. A selection of milk. Snack packs of chocolate chip cookies for the kids’ lunch boxes.
I stopped mid-stack. I froze, yet my heart raced. I felt a little dizzy. I calmed my brain.
When did I grow up? When did my shopping trolley become so responsible.
Then I looked down at my legs. When did I become that woman who wears workout gear to the supermarket? When did I become the woman at the supermarket, happy because I was shopping child-free and agonising over salad choices in the fresh produce aisle? When did that happen?
I used to work as a check-out chick. At the end of each shift I’d buy stuff I’d seen go through my aisle. Stuff I’d carelessly packed in bags (I didn’t care about bag placement back then, I never unpacked them). Occasionally food would catch my eye and I’d start to crave it. Normally, I’d buy Toobs, chocolate and sarsaparilla. They went well with bongs.
Now I have bulk packs of dishwasher tablets.
I took a moment. I felt overwhelmed. I’m getting older. I don’t want to. I want my kids to grow older and me to stay young to watch them. Life is so amazing, but once you reach a certain age you start to get scared. I want to be that girl buying Cheetos, worried about my chemistry test and sneaking cigarettes out my bedroom window. Not to say that being a teenager was easy. It wasn’t. It was excruciating at times. But in the blink of an eye I’ll have teenagers of my own. I don’t want to be that old.
When did I become a grown up?
Bianca x
Embrace it. Getting older means becoming a “woman of a certain age” and you know what they say about women of a certain age? They say they’re invisible, which is fine because as comedian Lucy Porter says “you know who else is invisible? NINJAS!” We can be Ninjas together.
Thanks Kirst. I actually don’t mind getting older, I’m just terrified of life ending. If I could be 350 I would, you could be 355 x
Toobs pair well with bongs. I have to fight a very strong urge to pick up the Toobs every single time we do the grocery shop.
I might have to buy some Toobs today ; )
I remember being a small child and all I wanted was to magically become adult just like that movie BIG with Tom Hanks. Now I’m here and I regularly feel overwhelmed with the cereal choices and how many varieties of bread are available and that my children are reliant on me to help them become balanced, caring humans. I totally get the “When did that happen?” Take me back to uni days and partying and friends and time – god I had so much time. Mel ps. gotta get me some toobs tomorrow.
Isn’t it strange wishing to be older and then getting older and wishing to be younger! x
Ugh, I know exactly what you mean. I often stand in the middle of the supermarket, overwhelmed by the fact that I’m the grown up and I can buy whatever the hell I want. I could buy Coco Pops and 7 different types of chocolate. But I don’t. I buy oats, and chia seeds and a large bag of spinach. Sigh.
Go on buy ALL OF THE CHOCOLATE!
My eldest will be thirty next birthday. THIRTY!!!!! When the hell did THAT happen. I have VERY clear memories of that dandelion clock hair do and baggy overalls with grubby knees – NOW, it’s all designer suits, cufflinks and product in the hair. If he didn’t look so much like me, I’m not sure I’d know who he is…
Dinner wise – I hear you. I get caught up in the various ‘I’m training’ diet restrictions here and get SO bored. The I remember that actually, my instinctive cooking isn’t going to transgress what my menfolk say they have to eat, and it’ll be a lot more fun for me if I just get on with it. Fortunately, my beloved is readily seduced by my Yotam Ottolenghi inspired adventures with spices, and Mr Fussypants 19 year old stepson just has to suck it up!
Grown up doesn’t necessarily correlate with grown old – just keep on doing what you are doing to keep your spirit youthful!
I really like being a grown up, I look at my teenager & think “Fuck doing that again!” I look at my 6 month old & “oh lady, you have SO much to learn”. I like this part. I do 🙂
I love your attitude x
I don’t meal plan. I like to drink wine. I shop in my workout gear (usually at 4pm on a Sunday) and I agonise over what veggies to buy. We can be grown ups together. It’ll be fun. x
Oh I am hearing you loud and clear sistah. I think I am 26, that was a great age and maybe that is why I want to be 26 forever. But I am 42, and that’s ok Im not concerned with looking older, but my 16yr old son sent me a picture last week and it really undid me. A beautiful smooch lovely dovey picture of him cuddling his GIRLFRIEND. A real one, not a crush, not an idea, this little lady is REAL. So now I really do have to appear grown up and realize I have a son who is prob having sex. OMG! I think of him as an 8 year old. Now I have to seem responsible and mature when really I am cowering on the inside hoping to all hell I look like I know what I am doing on the outside. My little girls are 4 and 6, and I would really like them to stay that age. By the time they are having sex I will have dementia and wont know who I am.