Ok, maybe this is some conspiracy theory, but I’ve noticed a terribly sneaky trend in grocery stores.
….Sad, flippin’ music. A ballad for the brokenhearted.
Like, brutally sad, like - listening to late night Delila as she tries to talk you through your loveless life but actually just makes you super aware of how lonely you actually are - kind of sad (don’t lie - you’ve listened to Delila too).
I mean, COME ON?
I walk in picking up ingredients for a grilled chicken and mixed green salad because HEY, no one likes a whale in a bikini, and end up walking out with 2 pounds of Nutella and a bottle (three) of wine.
Because I’m pretty sure after the I can’t make you love me, everybody hurts sometime and how can you mend a broken heart scream down at me in an eloquent heart-stabbing sequence, I’ve already forgotten there is such a thing as a vegetable and I’m scouring the store for every item that says “this will go right to your a$$” (aka can a girl just get some damn fries?) - to comfort my held back tears.
I’m sorry, but it’s not a coincidence that on Monday I walk into the store only to be serenaded by it must have been love, Thursday with she don’t love you like I love you, and Sunday with all by myself... they just HAD to pull out the Celine card.
I see what they’re doing here, and screw them, it’s working. I WILL buy their overpriced baked goods, ice cream, chips, pizzas, uh, every thing I can get my hands on, because ay, they don’t call it comfort eating for no reason.
But, maybe I’m wrong, and maybe it’s just me (warning: conspiracy theory strikes again).
Maybe they’ve got a watch dog that’s like, "Attention, attention, Britni just rolled up… cue Joni Mitchell MEOW."
Because they know, oh. how. they. do. know, my bill just went from $30.00 to $150.00 (in carbs) as soon as Joni softly whimpers to me that love is gone, ohh, love is gone.
You’re right babygirl, it is gone - along with my money, my dignity, my pant size and the entire chip aisle. But, of course, they’ll restock and get ready for me on Thursday.
I mean, if they’re gonna draw me into a black hole of emotional eating despair with their well thought-out playlists, then they might as well just make me a damn mix cd.
But I hope they throw in some Michael Bolton because who doesn’t like a side of I said I love you, but I lied with their overpriced bag of processed chicken nuggz. Na’meen?