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Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

05 October 2012

Shark Week For Dummies

I'm having an Ugly day.

Basically, it's one of those days where it doesn't matter what I do to enhance my over-all appearance, I still look unattractive, unwashed, and slept in.

I've tossed my shirt in the dryer TWICE because every time I put it on, it immediately looks rumpled.

I've washed, dried, flat-ironed, re-wetted, re-dried, re-flat ironed, sprayed, gelled, waxed, flattened, and re-flat ironed my hair and I can't get rid of this weird clump sticking out of the side of my head.  

What.  The fuck.

My shirt keeps climbing up my midriff and getting stuck under my boobs, showing a becoming strip of muffin top above my pant-waist.

I have a motherfucking pimple.

I'm wearing fat pants and Uggs because really, anything else would be a complete waste of time.

Oh, and I think my right eye is drooping.  Suddenly, after 49 years of looking perfectly normal(ish), I have a wonky eye.

In other words, I'm a hot mess.  A smokin' hot ugly mess with zits and a wonky eye.


I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille...



And then, because no Ugly day is complete without total public humiliation, this happened:


Life being what it is, I had to make a trip to the drug store this morning to purchase an alternate box of tampons.  I had purchased an emergency box yesterday ("emergency" because I needed them, like, right fucking then) and in my haste, I ran into the drug store, grabbed my usual brand and drove on home... only to discover that they were scented.


???


Scented.  

With Baby Fresh-ness.  And in case you were wondering, Baby Fresh-ness smells exactly like the hideous scent they put in deodorized cat litter.

Which is a tad ironic.

And smells like no baby, anywhere, except possibly one born in a brothel.

Meanwhile, my cervix suddenly smelled like a cheap whore.  

And every time I opened the box, I sneezed.

Which leads me to the moment where I had to drive the 15 freaking miles back to the drug store to buy alternate tampons.






If you're one of those people who doesn't feel slightly awkward running into the store and ONLY buying a box of tampons, then you remind me of my mother.  She did everything but balance the box on her head and then juggle it while standing in the check out line, which was nothing short of mortifying to teen-age me.  Also?  It makes me feel like I did that day my freshman year in high school when I started my period at school and no one told me.  I was wearing light blue Dittos (the jeans du jour in the late 70s, for those of you who are too young to remember the most important fashion decade, like, ever) and blissfully unaware of the life-long trauma awaiting me in the very near future, rocked a blood stain the size of a salad plate as I sashayed happily from class to class.  (I still remember my mother coldly but firmly refusing to allow me to quit school that day.  She didn't seem to think it was necessary.)

(Also?  If I went to high school with you and you're reading this and somehow remember this life altering moment, please don't say so.  It's very important to my mental health to believe that no one noticed.)


So even though I literally needed nothing else today, I still bought a package of make-up remover cloths  (I know, right?  WTF?) and a bottle of Smart Water along with my unscented tampons.  (Because I have mad ninja tampon-buying skillz, yo.  No one would suspect a thing.)

Which made what happened next even more awkward, considering I was being incognito:

Picture, if you will, a short, chubby, middle-aged woman mindlessly trotting across the parking lot rooting around in her (ridiculously enormous) purse for her keys and sunglasses.  She's not paying attention to anything or anyone and seemingly expects there to be no traffic, pot holes, random pebbles, or other people in her way.

And then, in slow-motion, she simultaneously drops the bag containing her purchases, steps on it with one foot then trips over it with the other, and then kicks the box of tampons three feet in front of her while the Smart Water and make-up removal cloths remain in the bag.

The tampons fly forward in a perfect arc, catching intermittent glints of sunlight through the cloudy skies, and land with great ceremony into a large puddle of water.



And because my life is one long adventure in pain, the 200 people wandering across the parking lot that I didn't notice before stopped to watch this all happen.

A car approaching the pharmacy drive through stopped just short of my tampons and waited for me to react.

This left me with the following dilemma:

1.  Do I casually pretend that none of this ever happened, get in my car and drive away while leaving my purchases behind littering the parking lot of Kinney Drugs?


2.  Do I laugh as if I meant to do that, pick the stuff up, high five the old guy standing three feet away from me gawking, give a thumbs-up to the driver of the car who stopped and waited for me, and leave with my head held high?


3.  Do I die right then and there?


4.  Do I go back into the store and buy yet another box of tampons, just in case anyone missed the fact that I'm on my period?


5.  Do I pick up the Smart Water and make-up cloths and leave the tampons?


Decisions, decisions...


After pondering for a few moments, I went with 6:


6.  Do not make eye-contact with anyone, as that will render you invisible.  Pick up your bag, pick up your wet and muddy box of tampons, drop your keys into the puddle at the same time, pick up keys, and walk briskly to car. Hit the lock button twice on your key fob (which causes your horn to honk) before finally hitting the unlock button. Notice, after you get in the car, that your shirt has climbed up your body and is now resting comfortably under your boobs and in your side rolls, while exposing at least 4 inches of bare skin and back fat.  Drive away and vow to start buying tampons from amazon.com (they sell everything else, yes?).  Stop at stupid little village market which is only like a block from your house on the way home and pay ridiculously huge price for some weird off-brand of tampons and a Snickers bar.  Go home, eat candy bar, and pray for death.

Silver lining #1:  I didn't actually fall all the way down.

Silver lining #2:  When you google images of "Fat People of Walmart" my picture doesn't come up.


It's the little things, y'all.