You do it. Admit it. You look. You stare. You try to keep your eyes off, but they always drift back, up and down, all over …
And you judge. You look and you judge. You make totally shallow, snap decisions about size and shape, and you label. You decide how you feel about some stranger based totally on what’s in their basket.
You’re guilty of … cart judgment.
You try not to look. You really do. You try to keep your eyes on your own cart, your own goods, your own life. What somebody else does with their life is their own business, right?
But you can’t help it. You’re drawn towards their carts at Costco, and Safeway, and Stop & Shop. You marvel at the size of their soda packs, and their bags of sweet, sweet sugar, and those obscene frozen pizzas, some even with those breadsticks, or, worse, “Wyngz.” Confess: you even fantasize about what it would be like with them, gorging yourself, uninhibited, wild with abandon for … carbs.
You stay strong though, and pack your own cart high with Brussel sprouts and broccoli and the Holy Trinity: meat, bacon, and butter. You don’t even walk the center aisles of the market unless there’s a fire alarm and you have to get out fast.
There you stride, so confident in your own grocery righteousness. Assured that you are eating the best, the healthiest. You are the gold star winner in all of the supermarket.
And, on the way out, you hear a giggle, a hint of a snort, and you recognize, in a flash, that you have just been judged by … (yup, you know it — you’re at Whole Foods) … vegans.
