Life is like a tin of ravioli

I went grocery shopping tonight. Without a list. This is extremely rare, as I love making lists and freak out a little when I don't have one with me.

I also usually dislike grocery shopping. There are no huge stores in Paris, all Parisians go to Franprix, tiny supermarkets where, surprisingly enough, you can find anything you need. People who live in the 'burbs go to giant stores and I think I'd rather eat my right arm than go to one of these. For one thing, I'm sure you'd spend tons of money, there are so many things you want to buy that you absolutely don't need but seem really useful or like a good idea. Besides, if you're unlucky enough to go with your kids, you're not going to get out without stickers, or a book, or candy.

So anyway, I went to my local Franprix. I bought food for the week, and managed to spend only 52 euros, not a penny more. I'm very proud of myself. And there's a bottle of Bandol in there, so I think I did well. The Bandol is now patiently waiting in the fridge. I won't open it tonight, though. Way too tired. I also got ham, crêpes (the salty ones, made with black flour), some picnic food, corn, beetroot, tomatoes, mozarella, and amongst other things, a tin of ravioli. I love ravioli. Yes, the 'fake' ones that most people find disgusting. I think I haven't bought them in years. You see, my husband hates them.

Not that he wouldn't let me buy them, I mean, but I just stopped eating them. Just like I stopped wearing green, because he's just not into that colour. Buying those ravioli, tonight, felt like an act of utter freedom. I was just thrilled that I was buying them and would share the meal with my children. I'm not sure they'll like it, they're used to fresh ravioli with pesto, the lucky little devils.

It was a moment of pure joy and pure sadness. I was sad that I didn't buy ravioli before, that I didn't find it in me to buy them, or wear green. That I made myself change, adapt, without anyone asking me to, but honestly thinking it was the right thing to do. Now that I'm being me again, I seriously don't get it. I never realized those things until today. And it made me wonder, how many women stop buying ravioli? Get out there, ladies. Go buy your ravioli. I just hope you do it while you can still share them with your husband. I wish I had done it earlier. Now it's too late. But guess what, I'll open my bottle of Bandol tomorrow evening and eat them with my kids. I'll be fine.

(For those who noticed the Forrest Gump reference, you'll get an extra point. Or two. Am feeling generous.)

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@jencull (jen) said...

I think a lot of people, male and female, stop buying ravioli, sometimes both sides make changes for the sake of being a couple. I suppose we need to decide how big a change we are willing to make and if we are giving something of ourselves away or not. Lovely post, I hope the ravioli tasts as good as you remember:) Jen

Anne said...

And I hope your kids like it. My American equivalent is Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Blue box,cheese powder mix in an envelope.

Because my parents never could stand the stuff, the only macaroni and cheese I ever had was the real stuff with the homemade sauce and baked for 35 minutes in a casserole dish. I finally had the Kraft-in-a-box at age 12 or 13 and I could not get enough. My mother just about disowned me.

Blue Sky said...

Don't you always have to compromise when you are part of a couple? And compromise again once you have kids? Cos then you have to consider the wishes and interests of a whole clatter of other people. Definitely slip in the occasional tin of ravioli though: so you don't lose yourself completely...

Jean said...

Really touching post.
It's so easy to lose part of our identities when we become wives and mothers.
I hope this is only the start of your re-discoveries.

Anonymous said...

A superficial comment to a very thoughtful post, sorry. I wonder whether we all have secret yucky food stuffs we like but don't admit to? THat harper back to childhood. Mine are arctic role (sponge rolled around icecream) and soggy fishfingers. I also have to have ham sandwiches in cheap white bread and squished down flat. It's how they used to come in my school packed lunch and i love them!


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