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Maybe this happened to me, or maybe it happened to a friend of a friend. I’m not saying. Regardless, this tale shall be told in the first person.

You will either find this pretty funny or you will be offended that I would write about such personal matters. Don’t say you weren’t warned. Your back button should be in the upper left corner of your browser window.

A week ago I had to shave so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed by hair hanging out of my  bathing suit at a pool party. I almost wrote an article about that horrific experience but decided it was too personal to share. There’s just something about standing in the shower with a razor and your husband’s shaving cream wishing you had a mirror to straddle and hoping you don’t cut your clitoris off that makes a person feel foolish. Thanks to these handy little bikini razors I found at the store the annual shaving event went better than expected.

Then yesterday my period started. I usually wear pads even though they are gross and I hate them. I wear pads because tampons feel like fiberglass to me. They hurt going in; they hurt coming out. I do keep them on hand though for when I have an allergic reaction to the adhesive on the pads. I’m allergic to some adhesives. It’s on my medical charts after an especially bad reaction to surgical tape when my daughter was born. A brand of pads that did not cause me any grief last month did this month. They must have changed their adhesive. The fact that I also had razor burn and might have been allergic to my husband’s shaving cream couldn’t have helped either. Or maybe they changed the formula in my laundry detergent or fabric softener and I was now allergic to it. Regardless, something was wrong.

I was on fire. I could barely sit down. I was walking around bow-legged all day.  I needed to go to the store and get a different brand of pads and some there’s-something-wrong-with-my-twat cream.

I was going to go as soon as my husband got home from work but that didn’t work out and it was 8:30 that evening before I finally got to go. My husband offered to go for me. I said that he couldn’t because I didn’t just need pads. I needed some my-pussy’s-on-fire cream and I preferred to pick it out myself.

So my poor husband asks me to pick up some lubricant while I’m there. No, not WD-40. He wanted to take care of his own needs while I was indisposed. I was not previously aware that men needed lubricant to do that.

I only needed three items. Each of those three items are embarrassing alone but the three together was just too much. I remembered Vicky’s article about looking at what’s in other shopper’s carts to see what you can tell about them. I wondered what a cart with only maxi pads, twat cream, and KY would bring to mind.

So I called my friend Ellynn to go to the store with me. Ellynn can almost always be counted on to run a fool’s errand with you. If you don’t believe that, remind me to write an article about the church yard sale. I figured she could buy the lubricant for me. Unfortunately she was not home so I had to go alone.

I decided to get a few things to hide my embarrassing items under in the cart. I picked up a huge package of toilet paper and put it in the cart. I needed something to prop the toilet paper on to make a little cave to hide my personal stuff in so I went to electronics and got a wireless USB adapter.

I head off to get my pads. Then I head over to the twat cream. It’s a tough choice. There are products for chafing, for itching, and for burning itch. I finally decide on the cream for burning itch. I put the cream in my little cave under the toilet paper. I note that a couple is perusing the condom selection so I wait a discreet distance away until they finish. Then I head over to get my husband’s lubricant.

What happened to KY jelly in tubes? There are at least twenty different lubricants to choose from. Tingling, warming, mist, liquid, etc. I begin to read labels to see if there is anything especially for male masturbation. A steady train of young men begin to come through picking up supplies for the weekend. I make a game out of guessing which ones will actually get to use the supplies they are purchasing. Then I called my husband and explain my dilemma. I begin to describe the many varieties of lubricant on the shelves. He tells me to get the cheapest one. I also tell him that they have vibrating cock rings and inquire if that might help. He asks how much they cost. There is no price on them. I’m not about to be at the check-out and have it yelled out, “I need a price check on vibrating cock rings on Aisle 8!” so I tell my husband thanks for sending me on this fool’s errand and hang up.

Meanwhile, an older man has arrived in the condom aisle. He had overheard part of my conversation and asked what I was looking for. It turns out his wife sent him to get a box of condoms and he has the same problem. There used to be two kinds of condoms, lubricated or not. Now there are over twenty. His wife just had her six week check-up and they need something to use until she gets her shot on Monday. I tell him how lucky he is to only wait six weeks. My husband had to wait ten months. He tells me how it just seems wrong to buy Equate personal lubricant and recommends the KY warming liquid. And so on…

By the time we parted ways I was sorry that my husband was going to be taking care of himself. Something about discussing these deeply personal things with another embarrassed old married person had somehow turned me on. Is that cheating?

I decided to go through self-check so that I wouldn’t have to show my burning itch cream and my warming KY liquid to a cashier. The combination just seemed too odd.

I checked out and headed out the door. The alarms went off. Remember the wireless USB adapter? You can imagine how it went from there because I’m tired of typing this.

On another note:  Why was I embarrassed to buy these items but I’m not embarrassed to blog about it?

One of my cats has a chronic condition called stomatitis and is unable to eat dry kibble so he gets two cans of loaf style food each day. Sadly, I have tried many premium brands and he will not eat them so I am left with the option of feeding him 9 Lives or watching him starve to death. I chose the 9 Lives over starvation so don’t bother telling me that it isn’t good food. I know. Tell Izzy. Maybe he’ll listen to you.

I buy it in shrink-wrapped cases of 24 cans. Each case contains four flavors: Super Supper, Seafood Platter, Chicken and Tuna Dinner, and Ocean Whitefish Dinner.

When I open the case to put the cans in the cabinet, I always sort and restack them so that Izzy is not eating Super Supper four days in a row, then eating Seafood Platter four days in a row, and so on. I put them in neat little stacks of four with each stack containing one of each flavor. I make sure that the flavors are in the same order in each stack so that Izzy never eats the same flavor in a row. I further ensure that he does not consume Ocean Whitefish and Seafood Platter on two consecutive days. After all, I wouldn’t want to eat fish two days in a row. None of this effort pays off if someone does not use each stack in order, though. Someone like my husband for instance. If one starts on the next stack before the previous stack is gone, it ruins everything.

I tried to explain but he thinks I’m OCD or anal retentive. I’m just a thoughtful pet owner, right?

We also have issues with him putting the spices back without properly alphabetizing them or putting a book away without following the Dewey Decimal system. So is he a slob or am I OCD?