Stomp.
Ever since I found out that I have fibromyalgia, I've been researching it to find out what else it can cause other than chronic pain. I've been amazed at how much I fit the bill. Among other things: easily bruised, ringing in ears, chronic fatigue, and morning stiffness. What I didn't expect to find on that list? Easily irritated. What?! I scoff. I am not easily irritated. I am calm, I am serene, I am billowy willow trees and ponds with swans. I am NOT easily irritated.
Then I remember. Wait a tic. Yes I am.
Last night I went to Kroger's (mid-west grocer chain, if you don't know) to shop for food because Jason, Mr. Fancy Food, had to have a fresh, homemade American dinner. His stomach was growling for steak subs, so off I went to buy fresh steak, vegetables, and baguette for our meal while he drove the 40-minute trek to my place.
At first, I'm okay. I fumble through the bags of apples to find the least-bruised set and I circle the produce a few times to find the right vegetables. And oooh, bean and corn salsa! So far so good.
Then I notice that my prized dried fruit section is gone, which means Kroger's is STILL renovating and rearranging, which means this place will be pockmarked with empty shelves, which means my entire grocery route is foiled. Where are my dried berries?
Fine. I'll find the berries later. I'm standing in front of the meat to buy rib-eye. $10.99 per pound?! What does he think I'm made of, gold? The man wants steak. Fine. Can I get some service please? No one answers. Hello? HELLOOOO?! Silence.
I track down someone to help me, seconds before my arms would have flailed fast enough to hail down an airplane. There is rib-eye, strip...but oh!...shoulder is on sale! What's the difference? I don't get it. Someone help!
A sympathetic attendant walks me to the refridgerated aisle and hands me an already perfectly packaged 1.5 lbs of rib-eye for $5 less. I am saved. Thank you, sympathetic attendant.
Now for fat-free potato chips. Where are they? NO! They can't still be gone from the potato chip aisle! Damn you, stockers! How could you stock everything but the chips I WANT?!
Okay frozen chicken. I'm out of it and I need some more. Where is it...helloooo frozen chicken, come out come out wherever you are...I can't find it. I give up.
Jason arrives. He finds me in the frozen pizza aisle, nerves frayed and ready to split. "Hi!" He smiles. "Whatcha lookin' for?"
I...I can't find my favorite frozen pizza. They took it out, Jason! They took it out! I'm pacing. I'm pacing the damn pizza aisle and his eyes are following me back and forth, back and forth. "What do they look like, honey, I'll help you," he soothes, trying not to laugh. I don't know, I don't know! They were fat-free, they looked like Tombstone pizzas, but I can't find them now, and my back's going to hurt any minute. "What about this one?" He hands me a reduced-fat Tombstone. "Mom gets this one all the time." I take it. It looks good. Okay...
"What else do you need?" I unleash all hell. Dried fruit! I WANT MY DRIED BERRIES! They've changed everything in this place and I can't find anything I want. I can't get into my mantra because I don't know where anything is! I can't find my potato chips and I still need to get the bread and I'M GOING TO DIE!
He looked at me and, without missing a beat, said, "Don't worry, we'll find it all," and began pushing the cart calmly down the aisle. I couldn't believe someone could be so calm. As we cleared that aisle to walk down the next, I stomped my feet, hopped around, and flailed my arms in one last release of frustration. I never knew stomping your feet could feel so good.
Author's note: We ended up finding everything except for the frozen chicken (which I forgot about) and the potato chips. Oh, and dinner was amazing.
Then I remember. Wait a tic. Yes I am.
Last night I went to Kroger's (mid-west grocer chain, if you don't know) to shop for food because Jason, Mr. Fancy Food, had to have a fresh, homemade American dinner. His stomach was growling for steak subs, so off I went to buy fresh steak, vegetables, and baguette for our meal while he drove the 40-minute trek to my place.
At first, I'm okay. I fumble through the bags of apples to find the least-bruised set and I circle the produce a few times to find the right vegetables. And oooh, bean and corn salsa! So far so good.
Then I notice that my prized dried fruit section is gone, which means Kroger's is STILL renovating and rearranging, which means this place will be pockmarked with empty shelves, which means my entire grocery route is foiled. Where are my dried berries?
Fine. I'll find the berries later. I'm standing in front of the meat to buy rib-eye. $10.99 per pound?! What does he think I'm made of, gold? The man wants steak. Fine. Can I get some service please? No one answers. Hello? HELLOOOO?! Silence.
I track down someone to help me, seconds before my arms would have flailed fast enough to hail down an airplane. There is rib-eye, strip...but oh!...shoulder is on sale! What's the difference? I don't get it. Someone help!
A sympathetic attendant walks me to the refridgerated aisle and hands me an already perfectly packaged 1.5 lbs of rib-eye for $5 less. I am saved. Thank you, sympathetic attendant.
Now for fat-free potato chips. Where are they? NO! They can't still be gone from the potato chip aisle! Damn you, stockers! How could you stock everything but the chips I WANT?!
Okay frozen chicken. I'm out of it and I need some more. Where is it...helloooo frozen chicken, come out come out wherever you are...I can't find it. I give up.
Jason arrives. He finds me in the frozen pizza aisle, nerves frayed and ready to split. "Hi!" He smiles. "Whatcha lookin' for?"
I...I can't find my favorite frozen pizza. They took it out, Jason! They took it out! I'm pacing. I'm pacing the damn pizza aisle and his eyes are following me back and forth, back and forth. "What do they look like, honey, I'll help you," he soothes, trying not to laugh. I don't know, I don't know! They were fat-free, they looked like Tombstone pizzas, but I can't find them now, and my back's going to hurt any minute. "What about this one?" He hands me a reduced-fat Tombstone. "Mom gets this one all the time." I take it. It looks good. Okay...
"What else do you need?" I unleash all hell. Dried fruit! I WANT MY DRIED BERRIES! They've changed everything in this place and I can't find anything I want. I can't get into my mantra because I don't know where anything is! I can't find my potato chips and I still need to get the bread and I'M GOING TO DIE!
He looked at me and, without missing a beat, said, "Don't worry, we'll find it all," and began pushing the cart calmly down the aisle. I couldn't believe someone could be so calm. As we cleared that aisle to walk down the next, I stomped my feet, hopped around, and flailed my arms in one last release of frustration. I never knew stomping your feet could feel so good.
Author's note: We ended up finding everything except for the frozen chicken (which I forgot about) and the potato chips. Oh, and dinner was amazing.
posted by The mini ninja at 12:58 PM
12 Comments:
This. Post. Cracked. Me. Up. I'm certainly not poking fun of your pain, because let's face it. That's not funny. But what's funny is that I can relate to the internal (and external) temper tantrum that ensued. I'm very much the same way. This makes me think I should post about my painfully low level of patience. Gotta love blogging- it's a great way to "release". :)
YES! Stomping is so great! Sometimes I stomp with both feet at the same time. Some may call it jumping, but I put all of my weight into the foot-to-floor connection... thus it becomes two-footed stomping. Greg HATES it!
I've never actually stomped... but I am going to try it. Can I pout at the same time? And I can do it in public? AWESOME.
BTW, I HATE HATE HATE when I go in a store and can't find something because they moved it. Our Target is moving next summer and they have drastically cut back on the stuff they're stocking AND they rearranged, so going there is a test of my patience.
Two grocery stores here ("here" is Illinois) just did that, and yes, it is the worst thing in the world! Why, grocery stores I know inside out, why do you need to go and move stuff? For no reason at all?
One moved everything around, the other only moved around a few aisles. I can't decide which is worse....
Stephanie - Poke away. I make fun of myself all the time. I find that the best way to beat pain is to laugh at it. You should definitely blog about your own "low patience" times. I will definitely read!
Kijersten - Funny you say that, because I in fact DID stomp with both foot. It was a full throttle, both foot, arms flailing, head lolling, eyes squeezed kind of stomp. AND IT FELT GREAT. I'm going to do it again!
Becky - YES, pouting while stomping is a bonus for all onlookers. As you can see from the above comment, it was as childish a stomp as could be. AND I did it between aisles, right in front of the store where the flowers are sold. You better stomp and tell me how it feels! (Maybe the next time your teacher misgrades your test?:)
Emerald - You are hilarious! And I DID flail when I read your comment. Just for you. FLAIL! FLAAAAAIIIIL! *stomp stomp*
Lori - It IS awful, isn't it? Don't they know that we woman have our grocery routes? DO NOT mess with our routes!
We are too much alike. Frozen food, irritable, morning stiffness (tho mine may vary anatomically), and loathing Kroger. We also had steak subs last night. Are you spying on me? Cuz that would be hot. I always wanted a stalker. :)
Leslie, I am now primed and ready for my first stomping episode. I am plotting the location of My First Stomp and working myself up about the injustices done to me and even practicing my pout in the mirror.
Torricane - "morning stiffness"....ahhhh man, I don't usually laugh at that kind of thing, but you managed to make me chuckle. Why do you loathe Kroger? (Other than the fact that they are rearranging fiends?!) You really had steak subs too?! WOW! From where?
Becky - You are TOO funny. I am SO EXCITED that I have prompted your First Stomp! There should be a photo frame with "My First Stomp" engraved into it. Ooooh I know! We can do it at Things Remembered! Have Jed take a picture of you doing it. Classy!
P.S. I find that it helps when I do stretches. Helps me get my arms flailing and my head lolling for just the right stomp. (Like Kjersten, I also favor the two-feet stomp.)
Funny you should mention stretches because I did some this afternoon. Hips, neck, back, arms. I can get EVERY PART OF MY BODY into this stomp.
Oooh... I've always wanted to get something done at Things Remembered. Christmas IS coming up...
Me: Hey, Jed, I just thought of something that you can get me for Christmas.
Jed: What's that?
Me: An engraved frame that says "My First Stomp."
Jed: (blank stare)
Me: I'm serious. I am throwing a tantrum next time we're at a store and I can't find something or I am getting crappy customer service (here I remind him about our last Best Buy experience).
Jed: Ooookay. I think you need to go to bed.
Me: Yes I do. But I still want the frame. And I mean it about the tantrum.
In Houston, the Krogers around my old house were notorious for poor customer service. They were downright jerks most of the time. When I moved to KC I found out that I could use my Kroger card at a store called Dillons. I hunted the store down and voila! Obviously these clerks are trained by the same people that trains the Houston stores. Ah I felt like I was right at home :)
Becky - Wait'a go, girl! Hm, now I kinda want a My First Stomp picture frame too. Okay let me add that to my Christmas list...
Daphne - You know, sometimes you don't realize you're getting bad service until you get GOOD service and you're like "WHOA, I've been treated like crap this whole time!" This cashier, Angela, works at the Krogers I go to and she deserves to be mentioned here because she is a total angel. Her sweetness, gentility, and joy was like a fresh breathe of air. And isn't it amazing how good moods can turn your day into a good one?
Hmmm...the joys of a laid-back man. They're great, aren't they?
And I must say I'm normally too busy screaming and yelling my frustration to stomp (either one or two footedly). It sounds quite cathartic, and I will try to remember to try it next time I encounter a frustrating situation.
Gab At Les
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