thebeckybug

I stopped by the grocery store this morning on my way to work to buy scarcely more than a jumbo pack of “feminine products.”  I’m always a little uncomfortable to be seen purchasing such personal items regardless that I’ve been buying them for oh, a decade. Holding it just so, I work my way through the store, trying to pretend that no one can see my product of choice as I casually shield it from view behind my leg.

I get in the slowest moving checkout line ever in the universe, per the usual. In front of me in line is a grandpa character, dressed all dapper at 8:30AM on Monday morning, suspenders and all. As we’re waiting on the woman in front of us who is apparently having payment problems, I notice that he even combed his hair before his grocery store trip. Being in the presence of such a distinguished gentleman, I become mortified at the thought of placing my super thin regulars on the conveyor belt behind his groceries. And then he unloads three ginormous packages of Depends from under his cart and I feel a lot better.