Hello, my name is Kristin. I am addicted to grocery shopping.
It seems like a harmless addiction. It doesn’t increase the risk of Type 2 diabetes, cancer, or heart disease. It won’t quicken my breath or increase my blood pressure. Yet. I still haven’t fully discovered the fried foods section.
During the 11 days I’ve been back at school, I’ve gone grocery shopping 5 times. This may be acceptable–if you’re raising a family of 8. Or even if you only spend a bit each time you shop. Unfortunately, I have no excuse: I shop for myself, and probably have a “budget” like the Brady Bunch.
They say that parents can pass on addictions. I never really thought much about that statistic, seeing as my parents are as clean as Danny Tanner. But now I’m beginning to understand the parental power. My mom’s vice? Grocery Shopping.
Like kids who are ardently opposed to cigarettes and then proceed to pick it up as they age, I never thought I’d develop my mom’s addiction. I hated grocery shopping growing up. I liked eating—not cooking—and preferred to think that food just magically appeared on my table. Pasta was served on a plate covered in sauce and parmesan cheese; not rock solid in a cardboard box.
I’m getting excited just typing about Grocery Shopping. And, sadly, I’m writing this just a few hours after taking a trip to Gateway Market.