Minute 14 of my 15

Yesterday when I was sick I really needed some Gatorade. And not just because Frank works for the company that makes the stuff but because the nurse I talked to on the phone said if I couldn’t keep anything else down then I should try the big G. You know, for the electrolytes.

But how would I procure this thirst aid? I was too weak to leave the house and as much as people had offered, “let me know if you need anything,” I couldn’t bring myself to call someone and say, “Could you get me some Gatorade?”

I decided I would have to leave the house in my condition. Now let me type you a picture:

Grey sweatpants (that I had been wearing for the past two days and nights)
A grey t-shirt
Stringy hair
Glasses
No make-up
Unbrushed teeth
An overall sickly, pathetic appearance
And of course, my giant pregnancy bump, poking out from said grey t-shirt

Walgreens was the closest but I hesitated. What about Wally? Will he try to talk to me? I felt so miserable that the very idea of having to make conversation with someone made me want to puke (which actually wasn’t that difficult since that’s the kind of sickness it was).

But then I thought it would be silly to go somewhere farther away, just to avoid Wally.

So I went to Walgreens. As soon as I walked in I realized that I had bigger problems than Wally. I had my public.

Surely, if I kept my head down people wouldn’t talk to me. Yet after I picked up my two giant bottles of Gatorade and walked through the store, not making eye contact (and looking the way I did, refer to description above), I still got comments:

“Hey!! You look like you’re about ready to hatch!!”

“Is it your first? Your second?”

“What are you having?”

“That child will bring you so much joy!!”

To these I answered, “I’m sick.” They might have thought I was rude but if they knew how long it had been since I brushed my teeth, they would be glad that I was short with them.

When I made it up to the counter after pushing my way through my “we’ve never seen a pregnant woman before fan club” I had to face Wally. To my surprise (and relief) he said nothing about my pregnancy! He didn’t even make small talk with me.

As I escaped the store I again reflected on how this is similar to being a celebrity. Like Eva Longoria, I can’t just walk into a local Walgreens without lots of questions. But unlike Eva, nobody wanted to take my picture. And if she ever looked the way I looked yesterday, she would definitely send her personal assistant instead.