A Purell Moment

My husband is a real stickler for washing new clothes when he brings them home from the store. It doesn’t matter to him if they are socks, briefs, or a button down shirt; he throws any and all new clothing into the wash before he will wear them. I used to think he did this just to create more work for me, seeing as how I am the laundry maven and all. I agreed with him to a point. I also wash all my new panties, nighties, and socks before I wear them, but it never occurred to me to wash everything. Not even after all the hoopla about bedbugs in clothing stores. But my little jaunt to TJ Maxx yesterday changed all that. I am now solidly on my husband’s side, and let the record show, HE IS RIGHT! And I am not afraid to admit it.

So, here we go. Swallow that last bite of cookie. Put down your iced tea. It’s going to get a little hairy.

I stopped by TJ Maxx yesterday, not for anything specific, because, seriously, who goes to TJ Maxx for something specific? It’s one step up from a flea market, which doesn’t stop me from shopping there, although after yesterday, it might. I was looking for stuff for a beach condo I am decorating, but when I didn’t find anything quite right, I scooted over to the bathing suits and perused the selection.It's about that time of year, and it's never too early to find a perfect swimsuit for less than a night's stay at a four star hotel.

As luck would have it,I found a really cute suit, which is a miracle because good bathing suits are harder to find than Waldo. The swimsuit was a black strapless one piece with a little twisty bandeau top and a very slight flouncy skirt. It was a far cry from an old lady tent swim dress, but it still provided the kind of coverage that a woman over forty with a slight weight problem and a little body dysmorphic syndrome could feel good about wearing. It did not have a product tag on it, just the store price tag, but I checked the size on the label and felt confident it would fit me. I liked it a lot but I didn’t have time to try it on, so I took it, along with a cute black and white top that I found, to the checkout counter.

I handed my shirt and swimsuit to the clerk and asked, “What is your return policy for swimsuits? I didn’t have time to try this on.”

She scanned the tag and said, “As long as you have your receipt and the original tag on it, you can return it.”

“What about the panty liner thing? Does it have to have that too?” I asked, turning the crotch inside out. “Oh Jesus, that’s disgusting! Don’t worry about it, because I am not buying it!”

We both looked at the crotch of the bathing suit. It had been used. On the black fabric was evidence that a naked crotch had touched it. In layman’s terms, there was a snail trail.

The cashier voided the bathing suit, continuing on with her spiel, “Well, if you purchased the suit, you would need to retain your receipt and keep the tags on it so you could return it later.”

“Maybe your return policy is too liberal,” I suggested, “if things can be returned in a used condition, like that.”

She shrugged her shoulders and, get this, hung the bathing suit back on the hanger, readying it to go back to the sales floor! The customer service cashier was watching us curiously and sidled over.

“What’s wrong with that bathing suit?” she asked.

“She don’t want it,” the cashier said.

“No I don't. Because it’s been worn. And used. And soiled,” I said.

“Put it in the damaged goods bin,” the customer service cashier said.

My cashier did as she was told and finished ringing up my shirt. I skedaddled to the car and bathed myself in hand sanitizer.

I bought the black and white shirt, but I took it back today. Ewww. It was too close to that bathing suit. As an aside, when I was waiting in line to return the shirt, a woman got in line two ladies behind me, stood there for a minute, and then asked if we were waiting in line to check out. Really? "No, I said, "We are waiting because it's fun."

When a sign tells you to keep on your panties when trying on bathing suits, do it. There is a reason. I might have to go so far as to wear those free little foot condoms when trying on flip flops too. Maybe I should just start shopping in a Hazmat suit. Or I could go all FLDS and make my own prairie dresses. At least they don’t come pre-slimed with someone else’s va-jay-jay smear in them. And for the record, let me say once again, MY HUSBAND IS RIGHT. But only about washing new clothes before they are worn.