Let’s go Shopping
When I was first diagnosed, I refused to go to the grocery store. Well, maybe it wasn’t a refusal but more of a weariness. A tender, apprehensive, scary, and heavy thought. Aisles and aisles filled with food meant for someone else. Warm slices of pizza, frozen burritos for convenience, and fragrant imported cheeses to sample or buy by the ounce. Dozens of options for different brands and flavors of chips, breads, and milks. Shelves stocked with granola bars, cereals, and ice creams while also overflowing with spices, nut butters, and teas. The aisles held everything familiar and now everything different. The usuals quickly turned strangers. No more fall-back or on-the-go luxuries. Packaged items contained things like citric acid, xantham gum, tapioca starch, natural flavorings, or guar gum. What even are those things? And others contained the obvious ingredients like wheat, dairy, grains, or sugar. Staple items in an instant becoming dreams lost in a distant memory.
My cupboards were empty because I had just thrown out everything I’d no longer be able to have. A store run was necessary. But it wasn’t a long list that joined me as I pulled up to the store, it was tears. What would I get? How much would I spend? Would I even have enough to fill my cart? I wanted to remember the confidence I felt as a food-lover preparing for the week of meals and snacks. Nights to host and nights to treat myself. Roaming down the aisles to fill my cart knowing how they would be enjoyed that week. But this time, I went in knowing neither was an option. Not a filled cart or pantry. I walked in and felt stares from every angle. Eyes of food and eyes of people. All looking at me with taunting laughter. The eyes from those who absentmindedly added item after item into their cart I used to love and the eyes from freshly baked bread made that morning. A staring game I couldn’t compete in. When I finally made it to the register, I had 2 very small organic chicken breasts for $11.99, a variety of vegetables, and eggs. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. A large amount a money for a small amount of items.
Getting in the car, I turned bitter. Tears into anger and sadness to frustration. Everything in my life used to be about food and now nothing could be. Plate or palate ceased it’s fullness. Alone in my car, I listened to the lies and believed that celiac disease limited, restrained, and left me in the wasteland.
But what about now? An entire season of trial and error in the grocery store that moved into the kitchen? It’s been over a year of living with celiac, and friends, never once have I gone into the grocery story in tears or with an empty list. My pantry is never bare and my cart never clatters down the aisles longing to be filled. I no longer walk down the aisle and avert my eyes from the past bliss but instead avert my eyes from the many options I have available only because I know I don’t need another bag of chips or quart of yogurt this week. Veggies and meats still take up the majority of my basket, but there’s so much more. Cookies, nut butters, milk, cream cheese, chocolate chips, granola, etc. A list bursting with ingredients and playful eyes that jump from aisle to aisle thinking of all the creative, endless, limitless possibilities at the store. I have many mouthwatering moments when think of how the flour will later come together with pureed pumpkin to warm my kitchen and home with a nutty, savory aroma to accompany my early morning coffee. It’s all there and it’s all for me.
Yes, stores do continue to hold the items forbidden, but now instead of only seeing those things that are gluten-filled, I now choose to shift my gaze at the plethora right in front of me. It’s taking the first few trips back slowly, carefully, and meticulously. It’s learning how to spend a little extra time reading labels, comparing prices, and testing new things. It’s about getting to the granola aisle, narrowing it down to the 8 or so grain-free mixes to find the best option that’s GMO, least processed, least sugary, and contains the best organic-filled ingredients that will heal my stomach and mind. It’s noticing what oils are used in the chip bags and finding the tomato sauce that does not contain citric acid. After those first few longer trips, it turns into learning your staples and find your preference. It’s living in the joy of getting choices between things like quantity and flavors. It’s the extra few minutes to debate lime or original chips and garlic or basil marinara. Oh, and don’t forget about the options between crunchy or soft cookies.
Grocery shopping is the highlight of my week. I love walking into the store smelling the produce and even the cheeses I cannot have. I love trying new things, finding my constant regulars, and filling my cart. I love noticing the people around me to see happiness on everyone’s faces no matter what and how they fill their carts. The store is where we start our journey of testing and trying. It’s the beginning to freedom and the commencement to creating celiac goodness.
