Advil Affair

What Not to Expect When You're Not Expecting

Foot, meet Mouth. Mouth, say hello to Foot. A more charming encounter has never existed. Those moments when your mouth says something, and your foot is already tingling with glee, knowing it is about to get stuck in your chow hole. We've all had those moments. Where an intention was well meaning, but the thought not so well thought out, or words so not well chosen. We've all listened to those ill-fated words leave our mouths, and...just...wait...

Wait for the inevitable. Wait for someone to call you out on your completly assinine statement, or wait - worse yet - for everyone to ignore it. When it's ignored, it's just this "thing" hanging out there. This blob of ickness that everyone knows exists but doesn't comment on. If you can't find the elephant in the room, that's for good reason. You ARE the elephant in the room.

To save myself the embarrassment of discussing my slips of the tongue, I elect to discuss a specific episode where I was the victim. A faux pas so heinous, that I have yet to recover. That's where a blog comes in. It's cheaper then therapy and allows me to confront the situation without, you know...confronting the situation.

There are certain things you just don't say to a woman. There are certain things you just don't assume about a woman. There are certain things you JUST DON'T DO.

• Crime Location: Target Retail Store, Pharmacy Department
• Culpirt: Pharmacy Technician aka Satan's Spawn, Demon from Hell and Lucifer's # 1 Lady
• Victim: Butterfly.  Lady, Butterfly

Scene:

Having a headache all day, and anticipating a headache to last throughout the night, I headed to my local Target Store to find a pain/sleep aid. Being partial to Tylenol PM for both it's healing effects as well as the coma-inducing state it provides, I was disappointed to see everything Tylenol was off the shelves. Leaving only Advil PM. The cause of this whole disaster.

I gingerly picked up the Advil PM package, feeling like it was the poor man's subsititue for the real thing - the Skeet Ulrich to Johnny Depp, if you will - and proceeded to the Pharmacy counter. Where I met Satan's Spawn.

You see, I'm not a religious person in the traditional sense, but I do know enough to understand that the Devil is never going to approach you with a pitchfork and a pointy tail. That would be too obvious. No no. The devil is going to approach you in human form. More specifically, the human form of a Pharmacy Tech at Target.

This "unassuming" lady asked if she could help me. I should have known right there that she was up to no good. Not picking up on the forked tongue cues, I innocently asked if they had any Tylenol PM , holding up the Advil PM box. She answered that they were completley out of Tylenol. I shrugged, thanked her, put the Advil back on the shelf, and started to walk away. She then offered this gem of goodness. These words of butter: "You know, you really shouldn't be taking Advil if you're pregnant anyway."

What? Say who now?

I will preface my thoughts with this: I am not pregnant. I was not pregnant.

I was guilty of wearing an unflattering shirt. The punishment certainly does not fit the crime, however. OK. I should have known better than to wear an Empire Waisted Shirt. Yes, I should have known that a short, semi-chubby lady needs to dress for her body type. I was a fashion disaster. Lesson learned.

But never, under any circumstances, do you ever, ever, EVER, assume a woman is pregnant. I could almost give Satan's Spawn some leeway if she was a twenty-somethinger - doing a job, but still young. No. This "lady" was a woman. She was an adult. She should know better.

After her comment, I kind of stood there. Gap mouthed. Not quite believing what I had heard. If I was watching this scene from outer space, I would assume that the lady with the pitchfork so neatly hidden behind the counter, was trying to capture the pudgy girl in a bad shirt. I just stood there. Blinking. And then I actually thanked her.

I THANKED HER.

I thanked the Pharmacy Tech for telling me that my non-pregnant self should not be taking Advil. I thanked her for looking out for me and my non-existent prodigy. Holy hell. I thanked her.

As I walked myself out of the pharmacy portion of Target and waddled myself to the ice cream and pickle aisles, I was thinking to myself " Who says that?

I have a steadfast rule. Unless a woman tells you, PERSONALLY, that she is with child, then she is not pregnant. I don't care if her water breaks and she's begging you to call her obstetrician.  Call 911, but,  if she hasn't confirmed it, she just had a very big lunch.

A few words to the wise concerning assumptions:

• Never assume someone has children because they are of a certain age
• Never assume a woman is married because she has a child
• Never assume a woman is married at all
• Never assume a woman even wants to get married or have children

　

I've relived this horrific event in the hopes that it might save someone from the pain I was forced to suffer. It haunts me to this day. And it's been, what? Two months?! I hope this post serves all of you out there to know what not to expect when you're not expecting.

With Love

Lady Butterfly

xoxo