05 june 2024
At the food lottery (dollar each bags of veg too bruised to sell)I got a small pineapple, eight tomatoes, three dubiously firm avocados, and an onion that is at least two thirds edible. The expensive tortillas without anything I'm allergic to were on sale BYGO so I had a partial lapse in "forced frugality" and bought those too. The self checkout machines accept coins, which is nice, but even the cashiers aren't openly judgemental about paying with a mix of card and handfuls of changes.
The security guards don't inspect receipts anymore, sometimes they're glued to their phones and don't look up. It's strange that holding a gun and fucking off on your phone for a shift just in case you have to shoot someone stealing a sack of potatoes is a valid way to earn the privilege of not being stressed out about getting enough to eat. I whisper these sorts of thoughts. Sometimes I think posting them anonymously on the internet might even be a bit too loud. Nothing is more despised than an openly envious poor person, but I guess the carefully crafted ideal marginalized person persona isn't much better.
Being (temporarily?) disabled has taught me that not being a burden and living in the "no iphone, no nice clothes, glasses falling apart, shoes have holes" reality of perfect not-your-fault poverty will never satisfy my family. The only peace is that they no longer take the time to criticise me behind my back with the only family member foolish enough to support me. I prefer being the ignored black sheep to being the loudly denounced scape goat.