In the Beginning...

Thank you. Thank you. Welcome to my island. Please hold your applause. Seriously. I can't hear you and look like an idiot.

So I will spare you much of the "who I am" and "why" crap because it's irrelevant. Instead, I will share a story with you. A story of love, self-discovery, and overcoming extreme obstacles in a quest for the meaning of life.

Ehh, not really. It's about three trips to Walgreen's to buy Hydroxycut.

Before I begin, I must mention that I realize Hydroxycut if probably bad for me. I don't care. I'm going on 27 (read: 30) and would like be comfortable in my body at least once. Do you have any idea what it's like being a skinny girl trapped in a fat girls body? It's like some cosmic joke that I wasn't let in on. I just get the punchline. And I don't find it funny. And yes, I realize I could exercise, eat better, vomit, etc. but I prefer the easy, highly-caffienated, self-destructive way. It's how I do.

Moving on...

A friend told me his sister lost 20lbs on Hydroxycut. Sounded good to me so I headed my wide load to my local Walgreen's. Found the aisle with the "diet aids". Of course, they are locked behind a plexiglass case. On the case is a sticker that says, "For assistance, press this button". I push the button. Over the intercom, interrupting the music, comes a loud dong followed by a ladies voice, "Customer needs assistance in diet aids" and the music proceeds.

Now maybe I'm alone here in my thinking but bear with me. By looking at me, one could easily infer that I could stand to lose a few pounds, at least by today's standards (and my snug pants). Is it TRULY necessary to tell ALL of Walgreen's that I need some assistance dieting??? I felt I was in that bad movie where the gum-smacking highschooler pages overhead for a price check on (fill in embarrassing item here). I wanted to run. Find someone fatter then me and stand next to her. Something, ANYTHING.

I regained my composure. I'm not one easily embarrassed or much concerned with the thoughts and opinions of others, especially towards me. But no. Walgreen's was not having that. Again I hear the dong. A double dong this time. Again I hear "Customer needs assistance in diet aids." Yes, thank you. I'm still fat. Haven't lost anything in the 30 seconds since you last told the store.

By the third announcement (yes third! poor customer service at this Walgreen's! and yes, THREE dongs this time), a young, attractive man in a Walgreen's smock approaches. I thank him for the announcement to the store, take my Hydroxycut, and strut to the front like I own the place.

Fast forward a few weeks. I'm out of Hydroxycut (and down 7lbs). I return to Walgreens... but a different one this time. I've already decided that I will outsmart Walgreens this time. They will not get me again. No sir. First, I wander the store seeking out other items I may need. What I'm really doing is scoping out the store. Where are the employees who can help me? How many skinny girls am I going to have to beat up for laughing? Finally, I find the "diet aids" case. And what do I find, to my joyful surprise, 4 feet to the right of the "diet aids"??? Another case with ANOTHER button! I'm so excited, I push the button! "Dong! Customer needs assistance in eye care."

YES! I've won! The only people who will know are me, key guy, and the cashier! Key guy doesn't care which case he opens! I'm feeling quite proud of myself here. But no, this would be too easy. In my excitement of outwitting that bitch on the intercom, I forgot to make sure they actually had the Hydroxycut I wanted. Nope, they were out.

I did my walk of shame to the front and purchased my shampoo and new razor.

Three days later, this would be yesterday, I stop back at the original Walgreen's. Walk straight to the "diet aids" and reach for the button. Then I stop. Turn, walk away in search of an employee. I'm just not ready for that attention again. My brilliant plan from before won't work as well here as there is no other cases in the same aisle. I'm debating finding the pregnancy test case and pushing that button. That would embarrass me less and actually give me quite a chuckle.

So, for my non-climatic ending (I'm like a man in so many ways): I found the same guy from before crouched in the Halloween candy. He turned out to be less cute and much less young than I originally thought. Embarrassment, apparently, is a lot like beer goggles.