2/22/2006

Medicine

I am an impulsive shopper, to say the least. I see things. I want things. I buy things. Or at least I used to, back in the days when I could afford to spend money. During my first year of University I decided it would be an awesome idea to buy a home pregnancy test. Why? I don't really know. I think I thought that it would be funny to have for when people went through the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. Everyone knows that people look through your stuff when they use your bathroom, so I really wanted to give them something to think about while they were in there. Later on, our collection of "stuff in medicine cabinet for shock value" grew to include a party pack of condoms and a douche. But this post is not about a giant pack of condoms, or a product to fix womanly odor problems. No. This post is about the evening I bought my home pregnancy test. I, shockingly, came up with the idea when I was looking at the display of tampons right next to the home pregnancy tests. The idea popped into my head and the next thing I knew I was scanning to see which one was the cheapest, and grabbing it off the shelf to stick in my shopping kart. Upon checking out, my friends made sure to reference the pregnancy test as many times as they could. "If you could keep your legs close this would not be a problem." one would say, while the other would nod in agreement. The checkout boy (man?) looked embarrassed, and hid the pregnancy test away in a bag as quickly as he could. I smiled to myself for some unknown reason, and entered my pin number to pay for the groceries. What I did not expect was the alarm to sound as I was leaving the store.
The mortified clerk rushed over and said to me in a hushed voice "I think it is your medicine."
"My medicine?" I questioned, and looked to my friend to see if she could offer any clarification. She shook her head, and then it dawned on me. "Oh, you mean my pregnancy test." I briefly wondered if I should take the time to explain to the clerk that a pregnancy test is not a form of medication. It does nothing to clear up a bad case of pregnancy. No matter how many times you take one, the pregnancy is not going to go away. I decided that it wasn't worth the trouble. The clerk scrambled, pregnancy test in hand, back to his checkout lane to pass it over that magical device that disables the alarm triggering tag and then hurried back to me to hand it over. "Thank you." I told him. "I've got to get home now to use my medicine." I explained, as I walked out the door.
I see the same clerk pretty much every time I go to buy groceries. His name is Corey, and since that fateful day he has even asked me out on a date. I can only assume this is because he thinks I am more likely to put out due to the whole "medicine" incident. Each time he sees me approach the check out lane, he smiles to himself. I can only hope that he never knocks a girl up because he will be awfully disappointed with the results of the "medicine".

2 comments:

Emily said...

I don't actually know you, but your blog makes me so happy. Just wanted to tell you.

Megan said...

Thank you very much! That is so nice of you to say.