Shopping at Aldi today felt like a mental nosedive. You grab a packet of sliced bread, think repulsive, and toss it back. Chips, peanuts, chocolate—the same dreary taste as yesterday, as if time itself had gone stale. Once we started training in Taekwondo, it became obvious: exercise alone is a fraud without diet. Cut the sugar—or at least most of it—or sport is worth the square root of zero. Change doesn’t come overnight; it grinds forward, step by step.

Bread from the bakery now costs a small fortune. You’re practically herded into discount chains, but Lidl and Penny are no salvation. Out of the frying pan, straight into the fire. Organic supermarkets? Forget it—pure pharmacy pricing. The farmers’ market? Don’t insult my intelligence.

So Aldi it is, like it or not. Not everything they sell is dreadful, but it’s all depressingly bland. And anyone buying Müller milk or similar dairy is bankrolling the AfD. The discounters don’t give a damn. Emigration? Off the table—my health won’t allow it. So next week, back to Aldi we march.

There was a time when women baked bread and cakes at home. Now they’re forced into the workforce just to scrape by. Eggs from the farm once cost less and tasted a hundred times better. Today, farm shops are just side hustles for struggling farmers, with prices to match. Another dead end.