By Deena BustilloPLAY Editor
I get checked out all the time. Probably once a day, then amp that stat up on the weekends. Men and women are constantly sizing me up. I can almost see the little squirrels running in their minds when they see me – in line, usually at the grocery store. Or the mall.
I love both venues, sometimes almost equally (Whole Foods and Old Orchard are a good match these days). Either way, feel like I’m always waiting at a store for some fool who makes eight bucks an hour to judge me on my purchases. Back off already. So what if I’m buying an arsenal of tampons, whipped cream and mouthwash at 10 p.m. on a Friday night? Aunt Flow is coming to town next week, I’m making hot chocolate so I don’t freeze to death and I’m trying to spare the poor kid sitting next to me in class – and it just so happens that I thought of all these needs at once. And even though it may seem like I’m gearing up for a really raunchy romp sesh, is that really your business, mister? I think not.
But I guess the shameful, yet usually mistaken, “Oooh, I know what you’re doing later” stare is better than the pity party, “Oh, you poor, poor soul, I know what you’re doing later” gaze the checker has when I show up in grubby sweats with a cartful of my friends, Ben and Jerry.
It’s like everywhere you turn, there’s someone watching you, contemplating everything from the contents of your cart to the grease factor of your hairdo. I admit I play into the game, too. If I’m buying a slightly embarrassing boatload of Apple Os (those amazing sour gummy rings), I’m not going to buy them from the hot guy – even if he has a shorter line. If I’m buying yeast infection medicine (always for a friend), I am definitely circling the store until the sweet, understanding old lady’s line dies down. Even worse, the scan-and-scowl game doesn’t stop there.
The mall is a whole new set of stories. I moseyed over to the fabulous Victoria’s Secret sale this week. Some strapping man, likely more interested in the boyfriends that get dragged into the store than the sexy ladies, scanned my items – he clearly wasn’t “checking me out.” But did he sneak a look at my bra size? Just for kicks? Probably.
Did the lady at Macy’s scoff at my clearance-rack shoes? Most certainly. I’m sure she went back and laughed at me in the break room for toiling over spending $33 on originally priced $110 quirky reddish pumps, and then trying to scam a coupon discount on top of it. A buck’s a buck!
But thanks to PLAY’s new Hot or Not? fashion file (page 11) I will at least be bargain bin diving for the things that won’t incite woeful whispers. And then I’ll really get checked out – too bad I, uhh, we, ate all the whipped cream.
Medill junior Deena Bustillo is the PLAY editor. She can be reached at d-bustillo@northwestern.edu.
