"Yeah....put that in the basket" the behemoth commanded as her ham-faced son filled the cart with "Buy One-Get One" potato chips.
I caught sight of them on aisle two while I was searching frantically for good coffee that wasn't outrageous. By the way, there wasn't any. My first thought as she turned the corner on her pimped out Rascal was "Wow, a professional eater." Second thought... "Well shit, I could've seen this at Walmart."
Like many folks, I'm trying to save a buck these days and have forsaken my glorious Publix with their beautiful produce section and courteous staff for Walmart's low prices and surly, downtrodden cashier's. I HATE shopping at Walmart. Don't get me wrong, while they do have a great selection, the other shoppers generally resemble nearly every stereotype on the planet. Sometimes I just want to smash some "white/black/whatever trash" idiot with my cart and scream "Do you have any concept of what is expected of you when you share space with the general public!!!???"
Because of these many irritations as well as my pining for supermarket panache, I decided to scrape up my pennies and head to Publix last weekend. So excited was I to rub elbows with "classy" peeps and be asked if I needed help to the car (I never do), that I practically drove through the front of the store. I strode through the produce aisle finding fabulous Minneola's, beautiful cherries and gorgeous grapes. Unlike Walmart, there were no fruit flies buzzing about my face as I snatched them from their crisp, clean crates either. Over in the meat section, there were perfect cuts of steak and chicken breasts WITHOUT rib meat. It was glorious. I was feeling pretty good about my decision to upgrade my shopping experience and then....there she was.
Roughly 600 pounds, she had "fatted" herself into that sassy new Rascal. Both her t-shirt and umm...."jogging" pants were covered in stains. Her crispy black hair flowed quietly in the wake caused by her motorized legs. But that's fine, her choice. What really got me incensed was her son. No more than 10 years old, he was comfortably in the 250's. On each aisle as I encountered them I would overhear her telling him to load the cart with cookies, cakes, Cokes etc and I would get madder and madder. How dare her? I mean if you want to devour everything in sight till your "Circus side show" huge, that's your business but when you do that to your kids...it makes me sick. Seriously, I was a fat kid but it wasn't because my mom supported my every bite. Quite the contrary. She attempted to keep me on the right track, I was just an insatiable pork chop that would not be denied. Had she provided the tools for my destruction, I would've probably had a heart attack at 18. But that's what a decent parent does, they don't just inspire or support attempts to kill yourself, however slowly.
By the time I was checking out (of course she was at the next lane) I'd had my fill. I almost could not stop looking at her as each piece of junk food was scanned by the obviously disgusted check out gal. Like I said, this is Publix dammit and this lady was obviously a Walmartian who had wandered into their pristine doors by mistake. Not one piece of fruit, granola....NOTHING with any sort of healthy value was placed into her bags. How can you just not even try??? I don't get that. Even as a fat adult in my twenties, there were still apples next to my box of Twinkies.
Once outside, I noticed what must have been (going by how high up his pants were on his chest) an eighty-ish year old man watching her load up her Rascal. She was driving a brand new, extremely nice SUV that had been outfitted with a wheel chair lift for her steed which she dismounted almost ceremoniously. Rather than attempt to do anything about her situation, she had spent God knows how much in support of getting even bigger. It was revolting. The septuagenarian practically stopped in his shuffling tracks as he gawked at the spectacle and I suppose he was thinking that back in his day, they would have shot her and used her for lamp oil purely on principle.
Worst of all, she instructed her son to plop his rotund self up in the front seat while the Publix bagger put all of their "groceries" in the back seat as she looked on supervising. Raisin'em right and getting him ready for a Rascal junior I expect. I know this is kind of a mean post but it really bugged the shit out of me and I think this kind of parenting should be considered child abuse.
I also may be the poorest snob there has ever been!
