The Problem Is I’m Always the Main Character…Even at Aldi

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you can absolutely be the main character… even in a discount grocery store with suspiciously cheap avocados and fluorescent lighting that reveals your soul.

Trust me. I know because I keep doing it by accident. Some people have their main-character moments in glamorous places — fancy restaurants, rooftop bars, faraway beaches. I have them in Aldi. Between the hummus and the off-brand cereal.

I don’t know how to explain it, but something happens to me the moment I walk through those doors. A switch flips. A vibe ignites. A personality emerges that is equal parts confident, curious, delusional, and deeply in love with budget-friendly groceries.

I’m not trying to be the main character. I simply am. I don’t even try.

It just happens.

The Unexpectedly Flirty Produce Section

There is something about picking out vegetables while making unnecessary eye contact with strangers that feels like a romantic subplot.

Do I need a zucchini? Irrelevant.

Do I hold the zucchini like I’m auditioning for a rom-com reboot? Yes. Yes, I do.

Is there a man nearby who looks like he should be holding a golden retriever in an Instagram photo? Always. He is never the love interest. But he’s always part of the setting.

The Slow-Motion Cart Push

For absolutely no reason, I often push my cart like I’m in a movie montage. Hair flowing. Eyes soft but mysterious. Music swelling.

Meanwhile, a toddler is screaming over discounted string cheese behind me, but in my head? I am ethereal. Transcendent. An icon.

You cannot convince me otherwise.

The Off-Brand Protein Bars Have a Grip on My Soul

Why do I buy them? Why do I keep buying them?

Why are they all named things like “Cookie Dough” and “Apple Pie” and “Yogurt Honey Peanut” when they taste like sweetened drywall?

I don’t know. But I grab at least two boxes every time. And they always become emotional support snacks within 48 hours.

The Frozen Aisle Is a Fever Dream

No other store has such strange, delightful, concerning frozen items. Seafood? Yes. Chicken cordon bleu? Also yes. Mystery popsicles shaped like cartoon characters who retired in the 90s? Somehow, still yes.

And the ice creams…Tell me why Aldi always has one flavor that feels invented by a committee of sleep-deprived oompa loopas? Banana Split Marshmallow Swirl? Cotton Candy Cheesecake Crunch?

Do I buy them? Every. Single. Time.

The Seasonal Aisle Sparks Something Unhinged in Me

If you shop at Aldi, you know. The notorious middle aisle — a.k.a. “Aldi Finds,” a.k.a. “the place where I lose all rational thought.” Here I am, a responsible adult woman, suddenly debating: a $7 holiday waffle maker, a weighted blanket I absolutely don’t need, a set of pet costumes, a crème brûlée kit, a tiny space heater shaped like a mushroom, slippers that might fall apart in three days.

And let’s talk about the holiday edition: It’s not shopping, it’s combat.

People act like the gingerbread pancake mix will self-destruct in 30 seconds if they don’t grab it immediately. It’s chaos. It’s nonsense. It’s deeply spiritual.

And yes, I participate.

The Checkout Line Action Sequence 

This is where every Aldi trip becomes a character arc. You think you’re okay. You think you’re grounded. But let’s be honest: Aldi cashiers are built different. And they scan your items faster than human reflex should allow, like they’re trying to break the sound barrier and you’re suddenly thrust into a high-stakes action sequence.

They scan with the speed of someone who is late for a flight. They move items with the force of a CrossFit champion. They ring up groceries like they’re disarming a bomb.

I, meanwhile, am trying to shove items into my bags with the grace of a panicked squirrel. I’m throwing items like it’s a bomb disposal mission.

Every time I start sweating. Every. Time.

This alone should humble me, and yet main character energy? Still intact.

Intentional Endings Even At Aldi

Maybe the reason I turn every grocery run into a main character moment is because it makes the ordinary feel intentional. Life has taken so much from me these past years. So I give myself these tiny, ridiculous moments to feel alive, enchanting, present.

Being the main character isn’t about attention. It’s about reclaiming a sense of self in places that once felt dull or heavy. It’s saying: “I deserve beauty here too.”

Even in Aldi. Especially in Aldi.