That Little Itch Should be Telling You Something

Although I am a big fan of shopping at local businesses, I have to admit, I usually go out of my way NOT to shop at the local drugstore. It really has nothing to do with the store itself, or the people who work there. It is, actually, a really nice store. The problem is, everyone I know shops there. And therefore, it is like that if I go there to pick up anything even remotely personal, it will get around faster than if it were published in the pages of the local newspaper.
Welcome to life in a small town.


On a typical day I might find my neighbor standing next to me in the hair color aisle, my mailman hovering next to me as I peruse the extra-strength anti-perspirants, and my babysitter beside me picking up tampons.
So naturally, the whole world seems to be shopping the day I need treatment for a yeast infection.

Yes, I know that everyone else has to deal with the same embarrassing issues that I do. I would just rather that they don’t know that I know that they know about all my stuff. And vice versa. Of course when it comes to things like anti-perspirant, there’s always the question as to whom I’m really buying the stuff for. Is it for me, my husband or the kids? Unfortunately, it seems all the really mortifying stuff is usually just for us ladies, and often there is no doubt that the shopper and the patient are the same.

Now, having someone you know be nearby when you are shopping for personal items is one thing. Worse, is when someone you know sees you comparing similar products for the treatment of something you don’t really want to discuss with ANYBODY, and they decide it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you advice. For example:
Nosy Neighbor: “Hi!”
Me: “Oh… hi.”
NN: “Hmmm. You know, I still think those five-day treatments work better than the single dose ones.”
Me: “Ummm. OK… ”
NN: “Of course, you have to put up with the icky mess for a while, but then at least you know the yeast infection is really gone.”
Me: “OK…”
NN: “Of course, if you have a really bad one, you might want to go with the seven-day cream.”

At this point I will usually bluff and say I’m just looking for next time and I’m actually only here to pick up some photos and then I will dash to the front and pick up some photos which I always have ready for just such an emergency and then I will get in my car and drive 50 miles away to another drug store and buy some cream for my problem and then get back in my car and go back home and smother my face with a pillow.
Finally, many hours and much chocolate later. I am recovered from my ordeal.
“How was you day,” asks my husband when he gets home.
“OK. How was yours?”
“Fine,” he says. “Oh, could you do me a favor tomorrow?”
“Could you pick me up something at the drug store?”

 ©2011, Beckerman. All rights reserved.

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