And so the season of shopping is upon us all once more. This is probably the only time of the year I actually don’t mind going shopping, I wouldn’t go as far to say I enjoy it but I can bear it, just. I went to a large well known toy super market the other day to look for gifts for my god daughter and her little sister, as you will have gathered from previous entries I completely adore them and dote on them no end. Now I’m assuming all such toy supermarkets are much the same as the one I visited in that they are divided down the middle with girls toys on the left and boys on the right. Without much thought I went to the girls section, of course I did, I was shopping for two young girls where else would I go? So there I am quite merrily perusing the pink aisles looking for appropriate gifts and something that I think they would like, this is the opportune moment to say I am absolutely, categorically without question terrible at buying presents, I always over think it rather than maybe just going with my gut instinct on what I think people would like. This is magnified even more when buying for two little girls, I really do not have a clue. It’s all pink.
The store is fairly busy, what with it being only a few weeks till Christmas and after a short while I become aware that the only people perusing the same aisles as me are women and young girls with their mothers. Now that I am aware of the fact I become overly conscious of it. I start noticing them looking at me, a lone adult male in the girl section of a toy shop? Some look at me with caution whilst some look at me with sympathy, one woman even asked me if I needed any help, (she could obviously see how out of my depth I was). I carry on regardless, struggling to find gifts that I think will last more than five minutes or that are more entertaining than the packaging they come in I sneak peeks at the womens baskets for ideas what to buy.
As I had come into the store I bypassed the trolleys and thought all I would need is a basket, how wrong I was, I now have a couple of boxes that are blatantly too big for the basket which is now struggling to contain them, I have a third larger box precariously held under my left arm and now every time I want to examine something on a shelf more carefully I have to go through the whole rigmarole of putting the box down on the floor, putting my basket down, picking up the two boxes that have now fallen out of the basket back in the basket, then picking up the numerous other items which have been knocked off the display by my inept fumblings including a ball that has now rolled away down the aisle, I swear at one point I heard a collective “Ahhhhhhhhh” followed by sniggering from the various women around me. It was on one such occasion that I was retrieving something that had rolled away from me that I became aware of the boys side of the store. Of course I knew it was there but hadn’t paid it much mind as I wasn’t there to shop for a little boy. It was then that I found all the men. There they were picking up Transformers, Action Men, Cars and toys with lights and buzzes. Part of me was drawn to stay in the blue aisles, they looked so much more fun, but I knew I had to retrieve the pink furry bouncy ball that had gotten away from me and return to the Barbies and fluffy pink things.
But now I knew it was there. I had seen the Star Wars shelves and the displays of Scaletrix. I was aware of my fellow man in the store and every now and then would glance over to that side of the store and look on in envy of all the flashing lights, the buzzing and whoshing. It was at one such time of green eyed wanton scrutiny that I became aware that not only were the women looking at me with caution and sympathy but the men were also looking at me, however they looked on with confusion and disapproval. They could not comprehend why I wasn’t with them trying out the life size Racing Car or skidding up and down the huge electronic piano keyboard. Why was I picking up “Bratz” (and quickly putting them back down I might add, what horrible things) and why I was looking at the ponies and princess costumes. Every now and then I tried to defect across to the other side and tried to convince myself that a young girl really does want a car that transforms into a robot and can fire rockets out of its arms but every time I picked up an action figure I knew it was not an appropriate toy for either girl and shuffled back across to the cautious sympathetic women and all the pink, (do they not know there are other colours?) and not forgetting the occasional sniggering.
At one point the lights in the store sparked out and a huddle of men from the blue aisle scurried over under cover of coats and tried to rescue me from all the pink and return me to the safe haven of Stormtroopers and Army vehicles. We were scuppered by a rather large display of Barny the Dinosaur and friends, when the lights came back on I was found on the floor with a seven foot Barney in a head lock. I picked up my basket, put it back down and jammed the two big boxes back in it, picked it up again, juggled with the larger box and other items and tried to discreetly make my way to the tills. Ignoring the sniggering and without a word to the cashier I paid for my goods and quickly made my way to my car.
I’ll be back there next week having rethought my gift choices and go through the pink influenced misery once again.
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