The other night after Zumba (yes, I’m still a desperate housewife), I paid a visit to the local grocery store for a few essentials. This young chap and I were following each other from produce section, to meat section, to dairy, and bread. This type of behaviour annoys me. I don’t understand why people can’t disobey the norm and go the opposite direction in the grocery store. Sometimes I do that, and you would not believe the number of people flashing me their grit teeth grin with accompanying glare.
I probably don’t need to get into the “people are like cattle” simile that Jack and I often discuss, but fact is, people mindlessly follow the herd and if they see a hole somewhere (ANYWHERE), they will run for it. It might not surprise you that Jack and I do not “do” crowds or traffic for this very reason.
I was nearing the end of my Supermarket Sweep, when I spotted something at the end of the aisle that I greatly needed. Another aside here: aisle end displays that claim to be *SALES* are made for people like me. Just as Jack falls for radio ads, I am the target audience of every single aisle end display.
(As an aside to my aside, Jack got his truck, our mortgage, home inspection AND my engagement ring from vendors advertising over the radio. To a compulsive researcher (me), this makes no sense. To Jack, time is money).
“Toothpaste, at that price? I’ll take 10!”
“OH, I really need sunscreen, Advil, AND crackers!” Fill the cart up with that shit.
This time, the aisle end was heavily populated with change rolls. I just so happen to be saving up for our amazing honeymoon, one bucket of change at a time. (So far, we can afford one night accommodation at the three-star all-inclusive resort of our choice). I stocked up on $1 rolls and hit the tills. The young gent from earlier was in the line beside me, and I noticed him noticing me. I’m happily engaged to a handsome lad and I definitely was not noticing some dude at the grocery store, but I’m not dumb. He was checking out the fabulous spread of healthy items in my basket. Here I am in line at the grocery store around 8:30PM, in my bright pink Zumba class outfit, with a huge package of $1 coin rolls that I intend on purchasing. . . And it hit me.
I laughed. Because now I’m wondering if this guy thinks I’m a lady that frequents clubs of the naked variety. And if so, does he think I’m the star of the show?
I lifted my shoulders, plastered a sly grin on my face, and strutted out the door, across the parking lot, and into my boyfriend’s truck. If you’re going to be a fake stripper, be a good one.