Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Blog

Big news and great trepidation.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 1 comments link this post

Bath and Body Works is a store I approach with great trepidation. I can barely handle walking by it in any mall; the smells and perfumes that gush -- there is no wafting, believe me -- out of the store are almost paralyzing. You will lose nose hairs if you stand there too long. How anyone can work there is beyond me.

However, mom sent a couple of coupons in the mail, one of which offered a free lotion. I felt obligated to get the lotion and hang onto it until Christmas and give it away to whomever it is I forget to shop for. So, there I was, at the gaping mouth of a Superfund Site. I stood in front of the store, and tried to prepare myself.

Really, it's a store only second to Victoria's Secret as far as stores I dread entering are concerned. Victoria's Secret used to be dreadful merely because of the men who always seem to be "resting" on the mall benches in front of that store and also because of how I always felt depressed about my body image moments after entering; now the added Stink Creep (stores selling lotions and perfumes and candles) has also entered the V.S. fray.

I walked into Bath and Body Works and immediately I felt that three minutes were taken from my life. It's something akin to a farm chemical dealer. Or maybe, Parabens-R-Us. The ingredients in the products sold at BaBW are a kind of witches brew of dyes, preservatives, perfumes...

Four minutes were chopped from my life. I had to move quickly!

I hate shopping. And I can't shop quickly, whether it is groceries or clothes or books or, in this case, bath products. I have to mull over the total ounces, for example, and figure the cost per ounce. Then I have to figure in percentage discounts, the likelihood of the product being used or who I could give it to. I review the ingredients and at least try to avoid the one with DDT in it. And lastly, I smell it.

I'm pretty picky about smells; though, as you may know, I do love perfume.

I was in the middle of an internal debate between to possible final selections when my cell phone rang. It was dad. That was odd; I'd already had the Daily Dad Call.

I answered the phone.

"Are you ready for the big news here," he asked.

I'm a worst case scenario-ist with unexpected phone calls. "Oh no! Did the cat die did someone die who died??!!"

"No one died, Julie. But our 'pet' gophers that live out front of the house have figured out how to climb up to the bird feeders."

Several things:

I'm dying a slow and painful death in BaBW, and this call has only prolonged my misery.
I paid 15 cents on my contract-free cell phone plan for that?
How in the world could a ground gopher climb up a skinny, metal rod? Gophers don't climb like a squirrel, do they?

"You called to tell me that?" I asked, but with only slight amazement. After all, we are the family so desparate for news that we barely greet each other with "hello" anymore, choosing instead to cut right to the chase and ask "any news?"

"Yes. I thought you should know," he said.

I know you're wondering something, and the answer is "yes."

I was able to make it out of the store to a location where I could find oxygen.