Public is just "Pubic" with no "L"

This story begins at the Target (as most good stories do...), where I was today, perusing the shoes in an attempt to distract myself from Tuesday (and, cue BOOB!). My philosophy was if I could just distract myself by acquiring more THINGS, preferably Nice, New things from Target, I would forget about the possibilities that are two days away. It seemed life affirming.

"I will need this winter scarf when it is cold and I am ALIVE."

"Oh look, a beach towel for NEXT YEAR. When I will take BOTH OF MY BOOBS TO THE BEACH."

Self-affirmation through shopping.

Anyway-- finding the shoes seriously lacking, I wandered over into women's wear to see what was on sale, and as I was considering the tissue-weight tank tops, I overheard the most upsetting conversation from the clearance rack just in front of me.

"Oh look at this ADORABLE little zebra-print bikini!!! Mom- I need this."

I looked up to find what appeared to be an eleven year old, extremely tan child; her cheerfully overweight 40 something mother; and a man. I cannot say who this man was, as in his full silver beard, he seemed a bit too old to be a father. Uncle? Great Uncle? Grampa? Neighbor who they gave a ride to Target? Step-Dad? Bus Driver? Under-cover cop?

I couldn't figure it out. I went back to the tanks.

"And LOOOOOOK they have it in extra small and Extra Extra Extra Large!! You can get one too Mom! We could match!!!!"

"Oh no. No way. Mom cannot wear that. That is not a Mom-Suit."

"But whyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

"Well, honey, let me be honest."

At this I looked up. Honesty in Target? I wasn't sure I was ready for this.

"There is hair that Mommy doesn't want the world to see that this suit just won't cover up."

"Ewwww. Well just SHAVE it, MOM!"

"Nope. No way. Learned that one the hard way. ITCHY"

At this point I have abandoned even touching the tank top and am blatantly staring at this conversation.

"Well just get a brazilian. Duh."

"Absolutely not. There is hair there for a REASON. God didn't just put HAIR THERE FOR NO REASON."

I started to back away as I watched Old Uncle Daddy grin from ear to ear. He thought this was hilarious.

As I scurried into the jewelry section to get away from this band of misfits-- afraid of what other life-lessons I might overhear if I stayed, I thought about this girl. At 11, I still believed in Santa Claus. I read Nancy Drew books. I had crushes. This girl knows what a Brazilian bikini wax is. Holy fucking shit.

I ended up in line behind them at the checkout. Turns out little miss tan got her zebra print suit, as well as sparkly zebra shoes-- along with an all too public education on the perils of pubic hair to boot! What a productive Sunday!!!

Turns out you can take the "L" out of public, and give it to Old Uncle Daddy to Leer with, and you've got a Sunday at the Plattsburgh Target.