“Packing snacks for your Dad to take on his Primerica Financial Services road trip tomorrow.”
My mom is food insecure. For the USDA, food insecurity means “limited or uncertain availability of nutritionally adequate and safe foods.” Not so for my mom.
For my mom, this means that she is basically afraid that she (or anyone she barely knows) will be without a meal or maybe just Lance brand peanut butter crackers. She buys them in packs of 30. Her fear is permanent and well established despite the fact that she is a middle-class American who has never strayed into the woods for more than a few hours on well-marked trails in decent weather. Its a blood sugar thing. Does she have diabetes? Nope. Does she have some other medical condition that requires this kind of militaristic attention? Nooooope. She just turns into a helpless asshole. I believe the rest of the world calls it hangry.
I 100 percent guarantee that this entire snackathon fits into a little rectangular blue coleman cooler. There is one treat. Peanut M&Ms or a few Dove Dark Chocolate Promises in a snack baggie. There are multiples of at least two items. Two Cokes (regular-if you see my dad drinking a diet coke, invest in these) two sets of either a) Lance peanut butter crackers or b) Nature Valley Oats and fucking Honey granola bars. Never, and I repeat, NEVER, are the flavors of these snacks different. Does she ever get Nature Valley peanut butter flavor granola bars? Shit no! She buys a 12-pack of Oats and Honey and rolls over to the Milano cookies in aisle 5.
This could go on forever. I’ll finish with this:
It is my genuine hope that this blog post is the first in the world to contain food insecurity and the term “hangry” in the same post.
PS- My dad helps middle class people manage their finances, and he can do wonders for you. I have an account that gained 40 percent this year. 40 PER-CENT! Granted, I have so very little in that account, so its 40 percent of jack shit, but I didn’t do ANYthing to make that extra jack shit. I’ll take it.