Yes, the photo is proof. I’ve purchased all things bad and all things good about store bought chicken in one fell swoop. I can explain...
See, I’ve just been to the grocery store. Well, Target, actually. And before even going, I knew my grocery choices would be limited, the produce would likely be “less than” AND I might have to purchase some chicken that was, shall we say, not as “righteous” as I would prefer. But listen, it’s 1 degree out. ONE! And that’s not even including the windchill. And the wind chill is significant, all right? I just couldn’t face yet another trip through a freezing, slippery, oversized suburban parking lot facing pretentious, high maintenance people driving large SUVs while talking on their cell phones and in a hurry. So, I decided to make it all work at Target.
Things were going along swimmingly, strolling along through wall hooks, eyeliner, dishrags and they even had the natural soda I’ve been looking for. Until I got to the chicken. You see, they DO have choices.
They have the “Just Bare” brand, with the photo of the healthy “serving suggestion” on the top (I thought it looked like shit, actually, but I’m a vegetarian, so what do I know from chicken...). “Just Bare” advertises its lack of added hormones, antibiotics and animal by-products (I don’t even want to THINK about how they could somehow insert animal by-products into chicken breasts). And look at the green leaf on the label. It just looks like a responsible decision for family meal planning, doesn’t it?
And then. Well, then there’s the Market Pantry brand. Or, the Golden Plump brand. Equally horrifying, yet so wonderfully economical, it’s enough to bring a conscientious mama to her knees. Please, for the love of all things good and right, why, WHY much I make these choices??
Thus begins the internal dialogue...
“Gina, how can you question whether or not you can afford the ‘good’ chicken. You know the truth here, you can’t afford NOT to buy the good stuff for your family.”
“But Gina, that specialty, hand-trimmed chicken only comes two to a pack and you have FIVE kids to feed, not to mention that tall and hungry husband with the hollow leg. Look at that Market Pantry pack that’s only $2 more than the two pack, but has 7 GIANT breasts in it.”
Ugh...
“Gina, you know why the breasts are giant. You know what they’ve done to make them so giant... really gonna put that shit into your kids’ bodies? Really??”
“But Gina, think of all the garbage they CHOOSE to put in their bodies. And what about their OTHER houses and parents? Do they feed them the good stuff? (momentary panic over the complete lack of control I actually have over anything at all) Am I really going to make a difference with the hand trimmed chicken? It’s a losing battle, right?”
(another momentary panic thinking of where the school gets the food for school lunch followed by quickly suppressing a memory of the “good” mom I used to be who packed healthy choices in my kids’ lunches each and every single day).
Shit!
That’s it! I’m getting the good chicken, dammit. So, I went over and grabbed a pack of the “Just Bare”. Then another pack. And another. And I glanced quickly at the price as I realized I only had six, tiny little “healthy” chicken breasts and who was I kidding thinking that was going to feed my family. Then, I put the good chicken down and went over to the Market Pantry stuff. I saw a guy looking at me and shot him a look. That’s right mister, I’m feeding a big family and I don’t need you getting all judgey about how I put the good stuff down and came over here to make an unhealthy and irresponsible decision, ok? And I bet you take your kids to McDonalds a LOT more often than I do.
Just as I was about to abandon my cart and run, I made an impulsive decision to buy BOTH of the packs of chicken. I tossed them in among the toilet cleaner and socks and briefly wondered which family members would end up with the good chicken on their plate and which family members would be instead destined to a lower quality life because of the selfish and fiscally conservative choice I made one cold night in January.
Grocery shopping. It ain’t what it used to be.
No comments:
Post a Comment