America – land of the free and home of the HUGE…

Yesterday, my friend Beth and I went to the supermarket in wine country California. I always like going to the supermarket in different countries because they’re a testament to the kind of people who live somewhere relatively alien to you; a secret glimpse of a world you too could be a part of.

Now… I’m still a bit jetlagged but I’m pretty sure I haven’t shrunk. Everything in this supermarket was massive. I’m talking HUGE.  I felt very small walking around this supermarket and should I become a part of this new America, I think I’d need to employ my own colonic doctor from Ubud to follow me around with a hosepipe.

To demonstrate my point, I took a photo of a fridge. As you can see I have placed my foot in the bottom of the frame, to give you a sense of perspective.

I’ve never seen a hunk of meat that big, have you? The turkeys in the bottom look like they’ve been zapped in one of those sci-fi mutation machines, and the corn dogs? Well, I don’t think I’ve ever attempted to put anything that large in my mouth, and I’m a pretty experimental person. I mean, I’ve been known to take risks.

People say obese people are lazy and have no self-respect. Well, here in California I don’t think it’s their fault. I happen to think they don’t actually KNOW how big they are. When you have to stand next to (and consume) produce that’s practically the same size as yourself, you start to lose track of what’s real. All sense of perspective goes out the window.

“I’m not large, my bag of rippled, ruffled rib steak smokehouse chips is just too damn small yo! No need for that chip clip man, I’ma gonna eat me a whole bag now!”

“And for dessert? Well, I’m kinda busy and my doctor says I should diet, so I’ll just put something that tastes like dessert in my mouth and go for another session on the sofa, watching workout videos! Gimme that Apple Pie gum yo!”

God bless America. It’s one of my favourite countries, the homely port that’s always shone a more welcoming beam for me than the UK, somehow. Perhaps I was American in my last life, but every time I come here I feel like I’m home.

Well… I used to. Nowadays, I feel a bit too little.

Other posts you may like: