Thoughts from the Produce Aisle

Everyone knows you are suppose to eat your fruits and vegetables. My first real word as a child was "juice", of course that's the reason why I have 20/20 vision. Today I ran into a grand scheme in product placement, just as this past weekend I ran into people with grand schemes to influence social change.

"You Are What You Eat" - The phrase that inspired the memorable donut hips of the women who should've eaten a Nutri-Grain bar has already overtaken society with diets and gym wear, but now while I know this hasn't quite caught on mainstream... well it has in places filled with "Crunchy People", you are not only what you eat, but what your food is packaged in.

So we are "plastic"!

Not really a surprise here. I mean, what little girl didn't want to be Barbie when she grew up?

Swipe the plastic for plastic surgery, plastic bags, plastic bottles and all those plastic containers. Plastic convenience store stop in the red plastic convertible. Hey Ken! Do you want a coke? Hot blonde sashes into jiffy store, while metal pumping beef cake fills up the muscle car. Rumble rumble zoom zoom couple speeds off into the distance, a cloud of smoke and dust fills the air and chokes the short mousey brunette on the bicycle. A sweaty old man walking down the sidewalk in overalls turns his head down and brings a red handkerchief to his mouth. He must be homeless or something cause he's walking. She must be broke cause she's biking.

Somewhere far from the hot concrete is the smell of smoke. Not car exhaust, but the delicious smell of roasting peppers, corn and bananas. Bright colors pop into the landscape of blues and greens. There is plenty for everyone. Would you like to try it? Are you hungry? There's plenty. Five hours for fresh air and fresh food. Five hours of grey. But there is no wasting, but lot's of working. Working to grow together and grow food and grow color in the grey.

I came back to grey. I'm not that good. I guess I could be better. Everyone can better themselves. I have needs. I sustain myself, whether or not it is sustainable, I'm not sure. I go to the produce aisle. Color!! Del Monte Fruit Naturals called my name. I don't think fruit cups typically hang in the produce aisle. I think they try to appeal to lunch box packing mothers looking for convenience, plastic.

These things looked like little treasures for a fruit craving single. What! I can have a variety fruit and it won't go bad before I can eat it! I don't think to share, maybe I don't have enough of a tribe rooting for me to be able to share. I imagine the possibilities, it's overwhelming. I don't know which one to eat first. I start to question my compulsiveness later, I mean all that plastic, shouldn't I have just got fruit to cut up myself. The price. Did I spend too much? I never went down the aisle with the other fruit cups to compare.

It was too late. I made my way across cracked concrete to the real version of what that scaled down plastic convertible stood for and I forgot forks, I forgot decency. My primal self tore into the fruit cup. Juice dripping down my chin, down my front, down the folds of my dress. Sticky fingers grabbed instinctively for the colors.

I was what I ate. Juicy.