I push my shopping cart up to the checkout line at a high-brow, gourmet grocery store that I rarely go to. I make cheery conversation with the cashier to distract her from my purchases, as I feel slightly ashamed. She laughs at my silly prattle about how I keep my reusable shopping bags in the seat next to me in my car but can never remember to bring them with me. She consoles me when my credit card does not read when I insert it and says that they have been having trouble with that machine. I feel flushed and a little embarrassed.
I am not worried about my card being declined; I am concerned that someone will call me out for buying four boxes of Wheat Chex.
I used to joke about running out of Wheat Chex, which is the only cereal I eat. And cereal, embellished with nuts, dried cranberries, and assorted fruit, is all I eat for breakfast. Eating this concoction is by far the highlight of my workday. The taste is spectacular, and though I suppose a nutritionist would steer me towards plain yogurt as a base instead, it is not going to happen. If I have room in my suitcase, I even pack it for travel.
There have been times when I have been low on Wheat Chex, either at home or at the office, but I never felt anxious about it. I would just stop at my usual store on the way to or from work, or simply add it to the weekly grocery list. But this was different. I shopped for the product four separate times over four days without finding any. Chocolate, Apple Cinnamon, and Peanut Butter Wheat Chex were abundant, but not the plain ones. On the fourth trip, I bought a box of Post miniature shredded wheat squares and one of Corn Chex, figuring that the toppings on the cereal would disguise the substitution.
I was not so lucky. The shredded wheat squares were bland and bordered on horrible. The Corn Chex tasted as though I had poured unsalted Fritos into a bowl and drowned them in milk.
The next morning, I related my sad tale to an office buddy of mine, and he threatened to organize a cereal addiction intervention. In desperation, I negotiated with him for a somewhat-stale, half eaten box of Wheat Chex in return for my fresh, almost-full box of shredded wheat squares. I grabbed the Chex and ran furtively to the office kitchen, salivating in anticipation. I gobbled them down appreciatively, and when I finished, I once again began worrying about where I could get more.
I have always prided myself on not hoarding groceries. In the early days of the pandemic, when toilet paper was low, I was never uneasy about running out. There are only two of us in our household, and we do not go through it that quickly. If stores placed a limit on TP, I never gamed the system by sending my husband back to buy more. I have always been thoughtful about not stockpiling goods to the detriment of others. If the supply seems low, I limit my procurement.
But this is different. I wondered if there was a significant supply-chain shortage, and I confronted the reality that I could go weeks without my favorite staple. I considered alternatives like Cheerios but tossed the idea aside as they are flavorless. I like granola, but it is usually laden with sugar. Raisin Bran is readily available, but the flakes do not stand up well with milk. Most everything else seemed to be aimed at children and brimmed with sugar and artificial colors.
Someone suggested I go to an upscale market that prides itself on organic and locally sourced foodstuffs. The thought had never occurred to me, since I did not think that it would buy from General Mills, a corporate producer. Despite my pessimism, I drove to the store, parked, and went inside. I toured different aisles and feigned interest in other products before going to the cereal aisle. I picked up a carton of blueberries and packaged shrimp, though they were over-priced, so that no one would think I was shopping for just cereal.
When I got to the cereal aisle, I was ecstatic to see a whole row of my brand. I took two boxes, then a third, and I started to move towards check-out. On an impulse, I scuttled back and grabbed a fourth box. I felt a bit ashamed, but I rationalized that I deserved to reward myself and that eating whole wheat cereal was healthy. Perhaps a donation to a food bank would absolve my guilt.
Quitting cold turkey was not a possibility.