For a month, all I wanted was macaroni and cheese. I looked at pictures online, read recipes, scrolled pinterest staring at the luxurious globs of cheese taunting me as they clung to the curled noodles that reminded me of my childhood.
No, I told myself, It's terrible for me. And filled with lactose. I'll hate myself the minute I take a bite. My argument was logical and sound, but still, the siren song of the comfort foods called to me.
That night, coming back from a "team bonding" work happy hour, I stopped in the Safeway that was on the way home. I needed to buy deodorant which I had embarrassingly run out of three days earlier, but was too lazy to leave the house that weekend to actually buy more. The mice in my house didn't seem to mind, so I didn't either, but it was a Monday and I didn't want to have to make it through another work day keeping a count of how many feet people stood away from me.
I knew better than to shop after drinking. I'll be quick! I told myself. It's kind of really important.... Fine. I'll be fine. Ohhh bananas! I need those.
I managed to get to the personal care aisle with only one impulse purchase. At least the bananas would be added to my breakfast or make for an afternoon snack. They wouldn't go to waste.
Then I strolled down the chip aisle. I wanted Sun Chips to munch on. I'd been drinking! I need something to eat tonight! But alas, the shelves were somehow empty of the only chip I really eat anymore.
Then I realized what I really wanted. I heard the call of the cheese from four aisles away. I was near, and it knew it.
Walking down the boxed foods aisle, I felt lost. I never walk down that way. Everything was processed with added sugar and salt and who knows what else. I was a whole-food shopper now! Only eating ingredients I could pronounce and foods I made myself!
But at the end of the lane, I found it--all of it.
And oh! The choices! Do I get the Kraft blue box? Or the Velveeta shells? Star Wars shapes in single-serving cups? Easy mac? Oh, how my tipsy heart sang at the wondrous wall of opportunity!
Finally, I went with the $2.29 box of store brand, Velveeta imitation elbow noodles. Nothing fancy, but I knew it would absolutely satisfy my craving. I did wonder, should I buy the classic blue box? But that required milk and butter, which I didn't feel like hunting down. No, I wanted to get home and feast!
I practically skipped to the self checkout line, managing only three ill-chosen items as I checked out. This seemed reasonable for how many ounces of rich whiskey I'd had earlier that evening. And I was about to have my long-awaited mac and cheese! The night was mine!
The new Avicii song, "The Nights" came on as I walked home and I felt alive. I bobbed my head to the music and strolled down the hill, box in hand and a smile on my face. Success felt good.
I greeted my roommate who was laying on the couch watching New Girl on Netflix and proudly informed her of my magnificent purchase. She wished me luck as I headed straight to the kitchen. I didn't even take my coat off before setting a pot to the stove and bringing the water to a boil.
I fiddled with the box. Was this always so challenging to get into? My fingers slipped, my hands fumbled, and in a flash, I felt the box slip from my hands and heard the crackle of tiny noodles sprawl across the kitchen floor. It sounded like I'd turned a rain stick upside down, and the raindrops were my metaphorical tears. "NOOOOO!" I cried out.
"Is everything alright?" my roommate shouted from the other room.
I couldn't respond. I was devastated. My treat. My $2.29 treat. I let out a deep, sorrowful moan.
But all was not lost. Salvaging what I could, I dumped what remained--maybe half the box--into the boiling water and stirred, headphones still in my ears listening to the same Avicii song on repeat, and dancing like a crazy person. This is what living alone will be like every night! I thought to myself.
I called my mother, chatted a bit, and we discussed our days.
Draining the pasta and glomping in the cheese, I stirred and sniffed and salivated over the cheesy goodness I was about to enjoy. Just a pinch of hot peppers, for taste, and I was ready.
I spooned it onto a plate with the biggest spoon I could find, and mounted as much as I could onto that first spoonful. Immediate satisfaction.
It was awful.
Instant regret. I twisted my face in disgust. What had I done?
I had forgotten how disgusting processed foods are. No, really. Once you stop eating them, you can actually taste the processing. Nothing about it tasted real. No! How could this be? I took a few more bites. Still awful. Not even the taste of nostalgia could save the moment. The moment was lost and my dinner was a failure.
I took one last bite to be sure, then spooned it into the trash. Quickly, I erased every bit of proof that such an endeavor had been undertaken.
Lesson learned, I thought. Next time, I'll get the blue box.
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