Some experiences, irrespective of how shame faced they leave you, are too funny not to share.

With an upcoming event I’ve given myself permission to shop for pleasure, not for business.

I emerged from the perfume debacle, triumphant that I’d scored a winner, only for the beautiful dress I’d ordered , from the US of A, to turn up and not fit.

3 days before said event.

So much for my organisation skills.

Nonetheless I’ve taken the advice of all those “stay calm…” pins that people seem to love so much and have stayed calm. Then I rented a gorgeous Badgley Mischka dress from WishWantWear, sipped some Pinot and remained in my oasis of calmness.

Lovely.

This morning it struck me that a dress so gorgeous should not be without equally gorgeous undergarments, another shopping addiction that needs little encouragement. Beeline for the nearest lingerie store, which happens to be Ann Summers (Warning: those of a sensitive nature may not want to click this link. There will be pictures of hotties in skimpy undergarments… and the occasional rabbit).

It took less than 15 minutes to discover the Olympia but here begins a series of unfortunate events… sort of..

The olympia. Stunning.

See the strap detail? Perfect.

First, the Olympia was on sale so it had been relegated to the back of the store. If you’re unfamiliar with the set up of an Ann Summers store the back is where the big girls’ toys are kept.

No worries.

I’m a big girl… except there’s  something a little disconcerting about shopping for underwear whilst a random, lone, man is fumbling through the big girls’ toys then proceeds to make eye contact.

Surely there are rules about such things? Whether said man was shopping for his other half, or himself (it is 2012), there must be some kind of etiquette in play, no?

In a show of defiance (albeit calm) I studied my Olympia (this involved holding the matching pants to the light and nodding in approval) and decided to ignore random, lone, man… until one unfortunate suspender strap snagged itself to a row of underwear that can only be described as ‘skimpy, with strategic bits cut out (View at work… if you dare… you have been warned).

Oh the shame.

The whole rack tumbled to my feet.

I had to hang each one back up struggling to free my Olympia from the tangled mess of skimpiness’. My calm was slipping. Random, lone, man was still looking, standing brazenly in front of a row of rabbits, aphrodisiacs and stimulants.

Surely there are rules?? A sign on the wall, maybe, that states, “It would be considered well out of order to make eye contact whilst handling the goodies, especially if the recipient of said eye contact is a stranger to you.”

Simple.

Nonetheless, skimpy things back on their rack, I calmly strolled to the till and paid for my Olympia. It’s then that the girl on the till asks if I’d like a bullet with my order.

I frowned. We have strict gun laws in the UK.

She pointed at a row of colourful lipstick.

Shot through the heart?

Ah ha, I thought and said, “No thanks, I tend to buy my lipstick from Boots and I tend to stick to what I know.”

She looked at me, for a moment, narrowed her eyes and nodded slowly whilst slipping  the Autumn/Winter 2012 catalogue into my shopping bag.

“I’ll let you look in your own time” she said.

I thought she was being all ‘saleswoman knows best’ so I shrugged, smiled and left with my ‘calm’ in tact.

Making my way home from my 9-5 the traffic was at a stand still. I flipped the car into neutral and decided to have a quick flick through my catalogue.

Imagine my face when I reached page 31 (Again… only if you dare and potentially not for your work audience) and discovered what the bullet actually is.

Oh the shame.

I am, however, quietly glad that I didn’t make any lame jokes about guns, blanks, or lips. It could have been far worse.

Still, I stay calm.