So the Sunday before last I visited a sex shop. It was either that or church and --when you think about it-- they're near enough the same.... you all thought about it, didn't you? You sick sick people.
I was after chocolate body paint. I'd explain, but frankly, you'd be disappointed. I only used it on my face during a brief iPhone photo shoot with another girl. Hockey jerseys were involved. Then we sent the photos to a minister.
See? The church connection again. He now has plans to leave the country. I'm denying any connection.
As it happened, the sex shop was unnecessary. I could have picked up the goods at a local Shoppers Drug Mart (equivalents to CVS, Walgreens or Boots depending on your aspirin buying location). Still, I think I could have been forgiven for not thinking of that location first.
Our body paints were in the tame section of the shop, along with more interesting versions of board games I played as a child. Other parts of the shop sold items that I'd never consider buying (or at least not blogging about buying) and harness swings which I totally would. I wondered if anyone other than me would believe I just wanted to hang out in one like a seven year old at a playground. I concluded no.
After the make-shift photo shoot, my friend and I went to the mall. We were watching the superbowl later than day and so figured face paints would not look out of place. Besides, it was surprisingly difficult to clean off. I wanted a prepaid sim card for my iPhone and headed for the appropriate store. As I did so, I passed a mirrored pillar and concluded an unfortunate fact:
There was really no mistaking that I was wearing chocolate body paint.
In the apartment, the paint hadn't looked any different from normal, non-consumable, face paints but in the bright mall lights the chocolatey goodness was revealed in all its edible glory. In five minutes time, I was to become pretty certain that the sales representative at Telus Mobility had noticed this as well.
I, however, needed a sim card and I wasn't going to be distracted. This guy would look me in the eye, keep a straight face and explain to me exactly how many picture messages I could get for their plan.
He managed. Just.
Any apprehension I might have had regarding returning to the store vanished while I watched the superbowl. A 31 year old with two streaks of body paint on her face can't really compete with Madonna and a host of centurion guards.