Single Women at the Grocery Store

After my 9-hour shift today where everything that could go wrong decided to do so, I missed the bus. I decided to go to Sobeys before the next one came, and eventually found myself waiting in the checkout line of utter depression and despair. That is, I was in the line seemingly exclusive to single women in their thirties. 

I watched as the lady in front of me placed a bag of Cheetos onto the conveyor belt. She was short and plump, and dressed for the office. Her hair, blond and bobbed, seemed to create a shellacked dome around her pink face. The Cheetos bumped up against her two weight-watchers meals for one and 6-pack of stubby-sized Coke Zeros. As she drew the entire roasted chicken from her basket, I knew that it had been a long day and she had no intentions of cooking for herself tonight. 

I glanced over my shoulder as the woman behind me spoke on her cell phone. "He says he's not ready for anything serious," she said, as she flipped through US Weekly, "...I know, right? What could that mean?" 

Her cart was full of at least five different types of yogurt, and several packages of Crystal Lite. And maxi-pads. She looked probably thirty-three.

"Do you think I'm being too needy?"

As I placed my cat food on the belt it struck me - I'm twenty-five next week, I'm buying cat food in the single women grocery line. 

The cashier rang through the Meow Mix and dish detergent, and I grabbed a package of Wild Berry gum at the last second. 

Once, an ex-boyfriend of mine kept borrowing gum off of me, then complaining because I only ever had fruity stuff. At the time I comerserated with him at how quickly it loses it flavour and said I probably wouldn't buy it again, but the truth is I love it. 

It's intense and ridiculous and fleeting, but it is worth it, I think, in the end.