Nonfat love in a big-box store

The wife and I take separate carts in the land of bulk peppermint patties.

By Stephen J. Lyons

Jan 8, 2002 | Our seventh anniversary is still eight months away, and my wife and I have arrived at a critical juncture that can challenge the best marriage: shopping side-by-side in a big-box/bulk-food store. This is the ultimate test of a relationship. So many temptations can confuse the heart: California merlot is on sale. Starbucks is marked down. Next to a murky tank of manacled lobsters, a weary retiree offers samples of fried turkey bacon. Awesome containers of laundry detergent that only an SUV could safely carry home vie for one's attention. A mile-long aisle of chocolates beckons like a taut 20-year-old on spring break.

Muzak's seductive sounds of James Taylor on the P.A. system do not help. In his mind he's going to Carolina and we're stuck in dairy products with Egg Beaters and tubs of bobbing tofu: firm or soft. Nonfat yogurt is what we say we desire, but what about those other, deeper longings? A tender round steak. New red potatoes smothered in garlic butter. Apple fritters. Does she feel what I feel -- worn out from low-moisture, part-skim mozzarella?

After all our time together, is this what we are reduced to? Watching the months pile up like the endless boxes of sugarless bran flakes we consume each morning with our fat-free milk? We seem so far away from those exciting first-blush days of havarti, pastrami, San Miguel dark and Lay's chips. Can a daily helping of four ounces of sugar-free grape juice really cure what ails our hearts? (Evaluating my cholesterol, my doctor says there's a slim chance. Some exercise might help, too.) What happened? Where was I when our love turned lite?

We are left with but one drastic alternative to escape the doldrums and put some spice back into this union: go shopping, but this time with separate carts and two lists. Our mission? To test the marriage vows against the backdrop of a box store known as Meijer -- a store so immense as to have its own shoe repair, key shop and bank.

Half the store is food, the other half is merchandise: Tampax to Timex, with ample supplies of furniture, plants, lamps, clothing, CDs, televisions, stereos, pet toys and plastic containers of every known dimension to store all this stuff. If Meijer had a hotel we would never have to leave and return home to another evening of couscous and boiled yams. (What I wouldn't give for a fistful of salty fries!) It is here we must test our love -- in a public arena with 24-hour shopping, marked-down brand names and two dozen cash registers.

Despite this seven-year itchiness, our commitment to this marriage is strong. We really can't split up. Besides the legal fees, how would we break it to the cats? As a practical matter (my wife's favorite saying), shopping together in this mammoth store always leaves us exhausted. So, as scary as it seems, it makes sense to divide up the task, as long as we keep our eyes on the goal: to supercharge our coupleness, increase our good cholesterol and avoid peppermint patties.

Next Page: Is high fat content a sign of infidelity?

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