GOING TO THE GROCERY AND BEING A TEACHER
There are certain things you just don't like doing in the town in which you teach. One of those things is grocery shopping. I always hated living in such a small town. Your kids' parents would see you in the grocery store, and they would immediately check out your grocery cart. You could see them taking a mental note of the items in the cart, too.
"Oh my gosh! I had no idea Miss Murray had a drinking problem! She's got two bottles of wine in that cart!"
Or ...
"That's why she's been so crabby this week ... I see tampons ..."
Moving here, I've successfully avoided seeing any of my parents in the grocery ... that was until last night.
I ran to the dollar store to pick up one thing ... silly string. Instead, I came out with a few odds and ends: a small carton of ice cream, mac-n-cheese, popcorn, and a little package of Jelly Bellies.
Of course, I ran smack dab into the fittest parents in my class, and the mom kept looking at my fat, flabby, bloated self with my arm full of crap, and all I wanted to scream was, "I'M NOT EATING ALL TONIGHT!"
"Oh my gosh! I had no idea Miss Murray had a drinking problem! She's got two bottles of wine in that cart!"
Or ...
"That's why she's been so crabby this week ... I see tampons ..."
Moving here, I've successfully avoided seeing any of my parents in the grocery ... that was until last night.
I ran to the dollar store to pick up one thing ... silly string. Instead, I came out with a few odds and ends: a small carton of ice cream, mac-n-cheese, popcorn, and a little package of Jelly Bellies.
Of course, I ran smack dab into the fittest parents in my class, and the mom kept looking at my fat, flabby, bloated self with my arm full of crap, and all I wanted to scream was, "I'M NOT EATING ALL TONIGHT!"
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