There's too much pressure at the grocery store. You go there, you pick up your little basket and start the humiliation process. It all starts with that basket too, doesn't it? A basket? Who's making these decisions, Little Red Riding Hood up in corporate? Is Yogi the Bear a major shareholder in this company? I'm-a gonna go shopping with this here-a grocery basket, eh Boo Boo?
So I'm skipping down the aisle (I've got a basket you know) and I think I might want to pick up some soup. There are a couple other people in the aisle, so it's awkward already. Everyone lines up on the opposite side of the aisle of the product you're looking at like the soup is picking you out of a lineup. Maybe one brave soul will lean in and grab something to take a look at it. Everyone stares. What did he pick up? I can't believe he likes broccoli! Fool! Does he not see the tomato sitting right there? Now, as a guy, you're not really supposed to be concerned with things like calories or fat content. So you do things like turn the can ever-so-slightly so you can kind of read the nutritional value from the side of the can without anyone noticing that you care about your health. You try to make up something manly to say while you are secretly looking at the sodium content - "Oh, it's got chicken in it..." - "...I recognize that from the many barbecues I've hosted"