To anyone out there who is considering growing up and becoming an adult, I would seriously advise against it. It’s confusing, it’s expensive, and the crushing reality that you still don’t know how to fold a fitted sheet will hit you harder than ever. It’ll feel like you’re watching an episode of “Black Mirror”, where all you can do is sit there and continue to ask yourself, “Where am I and what is even happening?” The post-adolescent stage of life always felt like a myth; like those people who claim to know how to parallel park. I was recently confronted with the most traumatic ‘adulting’ activity of all: the weekly food shop.
So I journeyed to Tesco. With a plastic carrier bag in one hand, and a long, ridiculously healthy shopping list in the other, I was ready for war. My plan of attack was the following: go in, buy wholesome and sensible food, don’t cry, and stay far, far away from the Custard Creams. Piece of cake right? Or rather piece of chia seed protein bar.
Upon entering however, I was met with what did indeed look like a battlefield. I felt like I was re-living the first fifteen minutes of “Dunkirk” in fluorescent lighting. There were people everywhere; children shrieking and bouncing off the walls, adults gliding up the aisles manoeuvring their shopping carts with the ease and confidence that comes with being an actual adult, and finally a few terrified students like myself, wandering around aimlessly looking like we’d just lost our Mum in Ikea.
I strained my non-existent arm muscles and tried to steer my cart down the first aisle, thinking I would start with something easy: cereal. As a devout cereal lover, I thought I’d be prepared. I then found myself standing in front of what felt like 57 different types of cereal, and I began to panic. My heart told me Rice Krispies, but my shopping list told me Bran Flakes. I decided to move on.
My next task was to purchase something green. Trembling, I edged my way towards the vegetable section in search of something with nutrients. The panic set in once again, when it occurred to me that not only would I need to buy something healthy, I would actually need to eat it. The room started spinning, and the sea of spinach and green beans in front of me seemed to expand and suffocate me. God knows where I’d left my shopping cart, and my list was probably lost in the Battle of the Bread over in the next aisle.
Holding on to nothing but my final shred of dignity, I elbowed my way out of the crowded shop and burst back out into the real world. I vowed to myself that I would try again next week, but for now, I was done. That was quite enough adulting for one day. I then trekked home to the promise of safety, peace and a frozen pizza.
