There isn't really an elegant segue into this topic, so I'm just not gonna mince words here. I HATE going to the store to buy tampons. All these years later, there's still a shame factor that exists every time I walk into greed mart to snag a box. I know it's totally natural and all, but everyone knows what they're for, and... how they're used. It's not a matter of just strolling in there, grabbing the goods and chucking it in the basket like it's a pack of gum or a box of sandwich bags. This is one of those things that if spotted by other shoppers, could provoke a whole slew of unflattering thoughts and mental pictures starring YOU. Living in a small town greatly increases the odds of being spotted again on a later date, prompting points, giggles, and mutterings of "huh huh huh... there's the tampon chick." To avoid this, I've developed a sad routine to avoid embarrassment as much as humanly possible. It usually goes something like this:
1. Go get the stupid stuff.
2. Casually walk to the end of the aisle and make sure there are no dudes passing through.
3. Hold up. Walk backward down the aisle and do a double take of the incontinence products that are designed to look like boxer shorts. Wha... wha... when did they start making THOSE??? Pretty spiffy looking pee-pants. Anyhoo... I digress...
4. Set out to retrieve the next item on the list (something big enough to hide the box under) which is, of course, on the other side of the store. Utilize mid-sections off the beaten path and deserted aisles where pride-killers are less likely to be loitering. Check around blind corners before negotiating them. Otherwise.... BOOM. Headshot.
5. Keep truckin.' Almost there. Here comes a dude. Mild heart attack. Shirt too tight to stuff basket under. There's a clothing rack. Let's hide in there.
6. Frozen food aisle. Grab them chicken nuggets. Liberally cover that box before some lost soul looking for fro-yo comes meandering down the aisle and spots the thing whose name we won't mention.
7. Finish shopping, anxiety free. That is, until you get to the checkout. Clusters of nosy looky-loos everywhere.
8. Panic attack. Briefly consider shoplifting, but decide against it because you're not slick enough to pull it off without getting popped, and getting busted stealing pooter plugs would just be idiotic. What is WRONG with you?
9. Find a checker whose line has no dudes in it. Get in it. Leave the stuff covered up until previous customer finishes and walks away. Wait nervously. Glance over shoulder two hundred times while current customer bitches about those 'Memorial-Day-marked-down-leftovers-are-still-priced-too-high-and-that-price-is-wrong-I-insist-you-call-someone-over-here-because-I'm-not-moving-until-I-get-my-fake-silk-flowers-for-twenty-five-cents.' Dude approaching. RED ALERT. Abort. Get in another dude-free line. But first, consider kicking this chick in the teeth.
10. It is now crucial to find an empty line and get out of there ASAP. Look around. Dudes everywhere. Scanning... scanning.... oooh, an express line! Checker smiles. Her teeth sparkle. Let's DO this.
11. Bag of chicken nuggets. Another bag of chicken nuggets. Eh... pack of gum, too. The stuff. Stop talking to the checker next to you and get that thing in the bag already. OH! There it goes. Yeah. Just throw that chicken in there on top of it so no one sees it through the bag... now that these things have turned into total crotch popsicles from
sitting under the bag of frozen chicken nuggets for like five hours, what's five more minutes?
12. Pay and get out so those puppies can thaw. Oh yeah. Dignity spared for one more month.
So basically I turned what should've been a five minute trip into a 30 minute anxiety-ridden lah-de-dah because I'm a paranoid dingbat. I hope you had a better day than I did.
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