The Corner (Store)

junkfood

My brother’s wedding is a month and a half away and even though no one will be looking at me, I’m determined to drop some weight so I can look back on the photos and not cringe.

I have been doing a miserable job, mostly because diets are a scam that just lead to binge eating when you’re not consuming enough calories and doing dumb shit like thinking an apple will tide you over for four hours.

Even though my new depression med (Wellbutrin) has tamped down on my insane reactions to sugar, I still want them, mostly out of habit or deprivation or my addictive personality.

There are times when I reach a level of laziness that even the five minute drive to either Mariano’s or Jewel feels insurmountable. And the twelve minute walk to Trader Joe’s seems overwhelming.

For living in the city, there isn’t a ton that’s a block or two away. Plenty is within walking distance, but hardly any place where you could throw on a coat over your pajamas sans bra and jaunt over in off season shoes.

Except for the bodega on the corner.

I lived in New York for two seconds and miss the plethora of shops filled with Snapple and Clearly Canadian. Flowers in buckets lining the front, a newspaper or hotdog stand within reach.

My bodega definitely doesn’t seem to fit the neighborhood’s demographic, yet it’s the only place of its kind. There’s no drugstore. No well stocked gas station. No 7-11.

If you need a quart of milk, a frozen pizza or a pint of ice cream, this is the place.

And oh do they stock a mean selection of Ben & Jerry’s.

For the very reasonable convenience charge of $6.99 plus tax.

It’s a junk food junkie’s heaven, a cramped, over stuffed space filled with processed foods, whole sections devoted to every flavor of chip and also a well stocked fridge full of beer.

The store is my Corner, the place I go to score, at peace with paying over market prices to get my fix.

There are two guys and one woman that work there. One of the guys treats me like a regular when I come in. He calls all the men “boss” and makes general statements like “I haven’t seen you in awhile!”. On Christmas day he was in a terrible mood, making sure I had cash to pay for lotto tickets. When I buy ice cream, he asks me if that’s my favorite flavor and says it’s a good choice, though I seriously doubt he’s had any of it.

Today after convincing myself a cup of bullion and heavy cream would keep me full until dinner, I succumbed to the utter lack of substance and carbs, dashing through the alley and across one street to snatch up a bag of Doritos and a full package of Oreo’s which were not 2 for $5.

My guy is there and asks if I’ve had a busy day.

“Sort of. What about you?”

“Yeah…” he trails off.

“Have a good day!” I say, going for the door.

“See you soon!” he replies.

And he’s probably right.

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