I have told a couple of my own embarrassing stories recently; in some cases, enough time has passed that I no longer feel that burn of shame. Jay recently asked *how* these things happen to me...
Hmm...well, I can't say for sure. I have given a lot of thought to it, however, and conclude that everyone has to have done things that are just plain ol' dumb...most do not blog about it.
Here we go...
Before I got pregnant with Cole, I had a bout of intestinal issues. I don't handle this sort of situation well. The last time I confessed intestinal issues to anyone, I was 20, and my dad fearing that I was suffering the same serious issues that have afflicted him, scheduled me for an upper GI, lower GI, ultimately leading to a sigmoidoscopy. Only, he didn't tell me the details of any of the procedures until it was much too late. It was the roto-rooter that grabbed my attention the most, and since then, I have never told anyone that I have had a stomach problem in fear that I will get the garden hose treatment. The joke has always been, unless I see my colon hanging out of my butt, I see no reason for a medical intervention.
My husband too...is a funny guy. I mentioned to him one afternoon that I hadn't "gone" in a few days. He was horrified. He is one of those hated "regular" kind of people. I don't know what that means, my body doesn't work that way, and I am unwilling to eat enough fiber to find out. When it happens...it happens. And I am just grateful.
However, during this period of time, it hadn't happened in awhile, and it was starting to get uncomfortable. He suggested a suppository. I didn't even know what that was and had to google it. After 1 second of research, I came to the following conclusion: OH HELL NO...there is no way. None. Nope. I will not do that. Things will have to be MUCH MUCH worse before I consider it.
Two more days would pass, and the fact that I could only walk if I was stooped over like a 95 year old woman, before I decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. Off to Walmart we went.
Normally, I don't take my husband to Walmart. Sometimes he can be embarrassing (hey baby....did you need any of that PERSONAL LUBE? nope..I am good, thanks). Most of the time, though, his presence increases the bill by at least $200, and then he is shocked and indignant at the register when the cashier gives him the total. (um...we are pushing around *2* overflowing carts...the Duggars don't even get this much stuff...what did you expect?)
Because I can be an idiot...I took him with me. My plan was to wander near the section that held the suppositories and just swipe one of them into the basket, nonchalantly, and place a few other items on top to hide them.
He...had other ideas.
As soon as we got near the drugstore area, he made a beeline for the pharmacist. (where is he going?) I could hear him, over many other people on a crowded Saturday morning..."UM...YES....MY WIFE NEEDS SOME SUPPOSITORIES...SHE HASN'T POOPED IN A WEEK...WHAT AISLE IS THAT IN?"
(Holy crap, I know he didn't just do that!) I broke into a run with the cart to beat him there. These dayum old ladies better get out of my way!
I did make it to the aisle first, and to say that I was overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of different types and sizes of suppositories was an understatement. Why are there so many different suppository makers? I have never bought them before...is there REALLY that large of a demand of suppositories? (no time to sit here and contemplate this, he is coming...you better hurry!)
So, I see him skate around the corner, and I gave him a look (one that said that I did overhear his little conversation with the pharmacist and would deal with him later), he smiled...as if to say..."let the games begin".
He bends down and starts reading off the bottles...as if he is talking to someone that is very hard of hearing"OK...WE CAN GET YOU THIS 500 COUNT BOTTLE OF SUPPOSITORIES HERE FOR $7.99. OR...WE HAVE THIS OTHER BOTTLE OVER HERE THAT HAS 200 SUPPOSITORIES FOR ONLY $4.99. WHICH ONE DO YOU THINK IS GOING TO WORK BETTER FOR YOU??"
I was stunned. I could NOT BELIEVE he was doing this. My eyes were nearly ready to pop out of my skull. A lady was pushing her cart down the aisle and burst out laughing, and another could overhear from the main aisle and stopped her cart to see what hubbub was in the laxative/suppository aisle. She too walked away laughing. I could feel my ears burn...I knew my face was probably beet red and I had to strongly resist the urge to kill him. (too many witnesses)
I swiped the 200 count bottle into my cart and tried to walk away as if I didn't know him. "NOW, IF YOU DON'T WANT A SUPPOSITORY, WE CAN TRY A DIFFERENT LAXATIVE." (grrr)
WHAT ABOUT GLOVES? DO YOU NEED SOME GLOVES? I have gloves, let's go. YOU SURE? yesssssssss....I'm sure.
I did try to bury the suppositories underneath some other items, and every time I looked away, he would place it back on top of my purse to ensure a more prominent display.
I didn't speak to him the remainder of the Walmart trip...my stomach was killing me and now everyone in aisles 13-27 knew that I hadn't pooped in a week, and was about to do something invasive to try to fix that. I just didn't feel that I could add to the conversation in a meaningful way.
He, of course, was very proud of himself. He doesn't get many opportunities to embarrass me, and he knew that he had done so with a zest never before seen. He was willing to take whatever silence or passive-aggressiveness came his way in retaliation and more importantly, he had caught me with my proverbial pants down. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment