No Touchy!
Last night while watching Grey’s Anatomy, Christina flinched when the new resident hugged her hello. When the resident asked if she was hurting Christina, she simply replied, “No… You’re touching me.”
Heh.
As a fan of the show I saw that one coming - Christina gets peeved by hugging.
At the same time, it made me think about my own thoughts about personal contact with strangers. I’ll admit: It’s really not my most favorite thing. Part of it, I’ll admit, has to do with the germ factor. Shaking hands is just asking for trouble when it comes to germs. I’ll also admit I’m a little more fanatical than your average bear when it comes to germs.
But to prove how it’s working for me: On a weekend away my son contracted salmonella. We never did figure out where or how he got it. What I do remember is that I did not get it from him - despite all of the touching and cleaning and more cleaning and fucking bleaching the fuck out of everything (ok not really) that I had to do that weekend. Even his pediatrician remarked at how diligent we must be with cleanliness in our home. HA.
So, getting back to my point. At times while venturing through the mall, I have happened upon two different kiosks that seriously bring out my inner bitch.
The first are those rice pack booths. They have them all warmed up and ready to drape around your neck. They want to entice you with how relaxing they are, plying you with tempting features (”It’s filled with lavender to allow for an aromatheraputic experience!”).
Meanwhile, I can’t help but wonder how many people actually allow them to do their demonstration. How clean are those people? What about people with their long hair - isn’t it going to touch those things?
BAH!!
I usually make a deliberate move to sidestep them (because you know how they like to just jump right in front of you, trying to get you to stop) and give them a curt, “I don’t like to be touched!” Also there is a bit of determination on my face that I’m pretty sure translates to “I will so totally mow you down and leave you as mall roadkill if you don’t move. your. ass.” Or something. Anyway, they usually move.
The second dreaded kiosk is the hand/nail care people. But it’s handwashing! Handwashing is the first line of defense to the dreaded evil of The Germs!
Uh huh, I know. That’s all well and good, as I am a big fan of handwashing. However, I was once unlucky enough to be trapped by one of these well-meaning handwasher/nail buffer people. Before I knew what was happening, my hand was lathered up and I was choosing a scented lotion for her to apply.
But then. Then! She was holding my hand in order to demonstrate the magical mojo goodness of her products and she - would NOT. LET. GO. Even gentle tugging of my hand wouldn’t release her grasp. At the same time she is asking me if I would buy a set for just $35 dollars, and why? Why wouldn’t I buy one? Why? When I told her that’s not what I came here to buy, she pressed me for details. And the whole time she is holding me at handpoint and I am about to go Rain Man all slapping and chanting and I’m sure there would be a little bit of rocking and screaming. LET GO OF ME!!!
So I told her I was here to get to pick up an order for some fetishwear from Fredrick’s and I didn’t want her prissy-ass lotion because I preferred scalding hot candle wax instead.
Or something. In any case she let go of my hand and I got away.
Just a word of warning to perfect strangers: Please. No touching.
