Once a month, I would go shopping with my mom at the commissary on base to feed our family of six. We would pile high two, or sometimes three, grocery carts, and the bill could sometimes total $800. I was always embarrassed by how much attention was drawn by our overloaded train of carts. Other shoppers would stare or make cutesy comments. It would take half an hour to check out. We would measure ourselves with the receipt. It was quite an excursion.