I’m a health-conscious shopper who just wanted an honest piece of fruit. Now, let’s talk about betrayal. Not the “your best friend accidentally revealed the murderer in a new Agatha Christie adaptation” kind. I mean the corporate kind. The kind that sneaks up on you while you’re just trying to eat clean and avoid pesticides.

Yes, I’m talking about shrinkflation—that sinister economic magic trick where the price stays the same, but the product shrinks faster than a suspect’s alibi in a Columbo interrogation. Usually, it’s some shrink-wrapped snack or a box of cereal filled with 30% flakes and 70% lies.

But this week, shrinkflation showed up in a new and horrifying way: In my organic Cosmic Crisp apples from Sprouts.

Cosmic Betrayal

Every week, without fail, I buy a 4-pack of these apples. $5.99. Organic. Juicy. Sweet. The kind of fruit that reassures you, “It’s okay that you forgot your reusable bags again, you’re making good choices.” But this week, I reached for my usual pack… and something was wrong. Very wrong.

The same distinctive paper container.
The same Cosmic Crisp Apple branded wrap.
The same $5.99 price tag.

But the apples? They were half the size. Literally.

I wish I were exaggerating. See photos. I could almost hold one between two fingers like a communion wafer. I’ve seen cherry tomatoes with more ambition (mild exaggeration).

To compensate, Sprouts (or the supplier) simply tightened the Cosmic Crisp Apple band around the poor little guys like they were tucking in toddlers for bed. Did they think I wouldn’t notice? That I’d just squint and say, “Well, maybe these apples went to CrossFit?”

Empty Cosmic Crisp Apple container, and my Sprouts receipt

They didn’t. They went to corporate.

When Organic Isn’t Enough

Shrinkflation is bad enough when it affects snack foods. But this is produce. Organic produce. I go out of my way to buy these to reduce my family’s exposure to pesticides and avoid apples that taste like sadness and fertilizer. And this is how I’m repaid? I expect this kind of behavior from potato chips. I expect it from trail mix. But apples? Cosmic ones? These were supposed to be above all that. Now, my only alternatives are the Costco super-sized bags of Skinny Pop popcorn I keep for “emergencies” or the Late July chips I swore I’d only open on weekends. And guess what? At least they’re still full size.

A Modest Proposal

Here’s my proposal to Sprouts and all grocers pulling this fruit-sized fraud: If you’re going to shrink the product, shrink the price. Or at least be honest about what you’re doing. Slap a sticker on the pack that says: “Now with 50% less apple. Same price—because we know you’re too tired to complain.” Or “Cosmic Crisp Apple Minis: perfect for tiny hands and inflated profit margins.” At minimum, include a complimentary magnifying glass with every purchase so I can see what I’m supposedly buying.

Until then, I’ll continue to be righteously indignant, and yes, probably still buy them next week. Because they’re still delicious and I’m still committed to eating clean. But I won’t be quiet about it!