3rd Act Gypsy

Never Lost. Just Exploring

Lessons in Shopping

I know shopping online is all the rage these days. I get it. It’s convenient, easy and can be transacted while in bunny slippers and a robe. But sometimes, just sometimes, it’s worthwhile getting dressed and going to a store. My store of choice? CVS Pharmacy.

For those of you unfamiliar with this store, it’s a pharmacy chain similar to Walgreens or Boots or even a small Tesco. They always have a couple of aisles that change throughout the year, offering things I never knew I needed until I spied them on the shelf.

To date, I’ve found my lovely Yes Birds, which were actually designed to be lawn ornaments but I saw them as a way to inspire my team at work. I’ve found giant inflatable penguin bowling sets, a cartoon sound maker, and some sort of kitchen gadget for $1.00 that I can’t figure out any more because I lost the packaging. Have I mentioned the kitchen isn’t my best room in the house?

I’ve spent way too much time marveling at these ingenuous, insane or incomprehensible items. I stand there wondering who came up with these ideas and what their back story is and what possessed them to actually make these things. Okay, I admit my curiosity and imagination can sidetrack me . . .

Now some items I’ve easily resisted – like Elf snot, Homer Simpson chia pets and charcoal face masks that somehow produce cleaner skin. But when I saw a pair of essential oil-infused capris, cleverly called Skineez, guaranteed to make me thinner and firmer in an hour for an incredible sale price of $3.99 (marked down from $19.99!), I couldn’t resist.

Once home, I slid easily into these miraculous pants. They were, as advertised, infused with something that made them feel slightly damp, and while that should have creeped me out, the promise of becoming thinner in an hour over rode the weirdness. The illustrated package design told me Rose Hip oil was, in fact, in my hip region. Vitamin E was strategically placed around my knees and Apricot Kernel oil was increasing my elasticity in those private places that apparently needed, well, elasticizing.

There I was, all oiled up, with no place to go. Now what?

Well, as any woman knows, there is a universal code that requires you to share anything that will potentially help you lose weight, sleep through the night or control hot flashes, with your girlfriends. So, off I went to share these wondrous capris with my best friend. As I sat down in her kitchen, I began slipping and sliding around on the chair. Apparently, the dampness was not going away any time soon.

Together, we looked at the material, and being the ever practical one, she asked, “What happens when you wash them?”

Hmm. “I haven’t gotten that far,” I said. “Right now, I’m waiting for the blissful state of effortless weight loss to kick in.”

“Okay,” she replied, “Why don’t we have some wine while we’re waiting?”

Two glasses later, I was no longer bothered by the dampness. And the sliding around was sort of like chair dancing, which I’m never averse to. Luckily, I went straight home instead of going to my yoga class. By the time I got into the house, I was feeling a little airy in regions of my body that should not be exposed to nature, at least not in public. Apparently, all that friction had worn holes in the material and these miracle capris were literally shredding off my body.

At first, I was indignant. What a rip off! I stuffed what was left of the capris back into the box, intending to return them for my full refund of $3.99, plus tax.

Weeks later…well, that package is still in my trunk. I just can’t bring myself to walk back into my local CVS and have Suki or Jose (the clerks who know me best) examine my shredded pants in full public view. I suspect they know me by now as that crazy lady who buys odd things. This return would probably solidify that perception and I’m just not ready for that yet.

Lessons learned?

Shopping, done well, should be embraced as an adventure in curiosity.

Nothing beats the actual tactile experience of shopping in person.

Some things are not what they’re cracked up to be and I’m willing to risk finding that out. I’m of an age where I’m no longer embarrassed to admit things like this. I embrace the next strange thing that catches my fancy and imagination. I look forward to fessing up my foibles. Life is messy and embarrassing and silly.

And a little slipping and sliding around is good for the soul . . . and maybe my thighs!


3 Responses

  1. I may chuckle about this the whole night. We’re at an age where TMI just doesn’t matter, eh? At least not if there’s a good story in it 😉

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