cheese

So I am standing in front of the dairy section at Publix pondering the mysteries of shredded cheese when I notice in my periphery a desperate housewife circling nearby for about the third time. I must be blocking her access to the Havarti so I do a half-hearted sidestep. She takes the move as an invitation, I guess, because she does another big sweeping pass with her packed grocery cart and pulls up next to me and leans in.

Her: "Scuz me, I never do this, but, um, you are just too cute and I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute about Mary Kay cosmetics?"

Me: Stunned silence

Her: "My name is Cheryl Something-Or-Other and I am a Mary Kay consultant. We have some new products coming out and I need 20 faces to demonstrate the products...have you ever used Mary Kay?"

Me: "No. I have a skin condition and I purchase all my cosmetics from my dermatologist." This is a lie, of course.

Her: "Oh...well, thanks for listening..."

She wanders off, pushing her cart filled with low-carb milk, club soda, t-bones and kitty litter.

My friend is staring, a tub of sour cream in one hand and refried beans in the other. We are making hurricane nachos and watching Anchorman tonight.

I look at her and ask if I really look like I am in need of a makeover by a perky color coordinated Mary Kay consultant. She replies that with the exception of my hair, which is a wreck (well, duh, there are hurricane-force winds blowing outside!), I look fine.

We see her again in the check-out aisle and I whisper to my friend: "not the crazy lady's line!"

I purposely choose the line furthest from her, even though it's the longest line and the place is jammed since everyone is stocking up for the hurricane that is bearing down on Florida. She notices as I saunter by and avoids eye contact with me. She is applying lip gloss. It's pink.