snap, snap.

standing in line, i hand the girl behind the conveyer belt a smile and a warm, texan, 'hi, how are ya?'. the man behind me in line lightens the load on his face. somehow the world just got a little smaller and a little more friendly. she laughs with me as i stack {stuff} all my goods into my canvas tote. today's purchase total hits the screen and its my cue to reveal my dirty little secret.


i am purchasing all this food with your money, mr. middle-class man {this is a 100% assumption, btw}.


it's true. i'm on food stamps {now re-named, the Supplemental Nutritional Assistance Program}. on the ninth day of each month, $87.00 hits my Maryland Independence Card and i head to whole foods. before this development, i would find myself walking around whole foods in a daze... so austin, so swanky, so out of my budget. and now, i walk in and get to business. let's be clear; it's still in a daze, only now, i don't have to wake up. local kale and smart dogs, that's right, you're comin' home with me.


i had some pretty competing feelings about recieving federal benefits at first. until i went through the process. which was long, tedious, and definitly required a car, people. they are NOT just handing these benefits out. further mythbusting can be accomplished, here.


and now, i treasure the moment that the middle-class-looking white girl whips out her food stamps and turns perception on its head. according to the US dept of ag, 41% of participanting SNAP households are white; 36% are african-american; 18% are hispanic; 3% are asian, and 2% are native american. so, i'm not sure why he acted so surprised.

this year i am happily dipping below the poverty line. with a yearly salary of $10,830, i am sitting pretty in poverty. and while i could pretty readily access the additional resources if i needed them {right, mom?}, it's probably true that many of the other 28.4 million recieving food stamps in this country couldn't. and it wouldn't hurt to know how that feels. so here i am, buying less and loving it.


dear, mr. grimacing man, want a bite of my smart dog?