Bashful

Sorry that I've been so neglectful to the blog, but I've been feeling a bit lazy in the new year. I'd start posts and then save them for later. What a way to start 2007, eh? Anywho, now I'm back in business.

What I want to talk about today is buying feminine products. Although I'm a GAW (Grown-A** Woman), I have trouble buying these products when I have to deal with a male cashier. I know I'm not the first person to come up to them with such a purpose, but the whole experience makes me feel about five inches tall. It's like I can almost hear them saying, "Having a heavy day, huh?" or "Did you want Motrin with that?" Of course, they never say that, but I've had something similar happen in past experiences.

A few years ago, I used to go to a medical center in a nearby city to pick up my birth control pills. The experience was always the same. There was an older Italian man at the front whose face looked like he was either about to kill someone or fall asleep. I could never tell which one, maybe both. He was always a bit grumpy toward me until he realized I was buying the pills. Then his face would brighten and he'd say, "So how are you?" or "What's going on?" Now I know good and well that I couldn't be the only woman buying pills from him, but he acted like I was. I got so tired of the way his eyebrows used to dance when I gave him my money that I started going somewhere else.

One thing I have yet to buy and I don't think I ever will is condoms. My other experiences have been embarrassing enough that I just avoid this area altogether. Back when I was with The Ex, I waited in the car while he went into this store to buy some. The male cashier who was ringing him up, kept turning around and looking into the car right at me. I thought I was imagining things until The Ex got into the car and started laughing. Apparently, the cashier gave him a thumbs up sign and told him to "tear it up". Because this was my hometown, I had to go to this store several times. Whenever I got said cashier, he'd give me the same look that the Italian man did and make slight conversation, even if I was buying something as simple as toilet paper. Dealing with him was enough to make this brown girl turn red.

This week, I went to my 24-hour pharmacy to buy some feminine products. As soon as I got in the door, I realized that there were only male cashiers available. Bummer. I tried not to be ashamed and loaded up on pads and feminine wash. Then I also bought a pack of gum, just to throw things off a bit.

The man barely made eye contact as he rung me up. One of his male coworkers came up behind me and said something like "getting kind of chunky." Now, being that I will be 30 in a few weeks and have been dealing with all kinds of insecurities, particularly weight, I whipped my head around and asked him what he was talking about. He held up a section of the newspaper where it showed a picture of Cal Ripken Jr. being inducted into the baseball hall of fame. "I said Cal's getting kind of Chunky." Oh. Thank goodness.