2023-05-04 09:13:39
Ruth Efroni is a writer, chief content editor at a production company and is challenged by acquisitions
About the section
Ruth Efroni goes shopping (and sometimes also orders home) and returns with products, insights and stories. Criticism of shopping, consumerism, relationships and life
Yishpro center was busy. Lines of cars blinked nervously trying to find parking. After long searches, I parked in front of an electrical warehouse. The parking lot was wider than usual and I thought that here, with God’s help, someone already knows that I am going to expand.
At the supermarket, I passed the line of perfumes and make-up and the line of band-aids and hair dyes and deodorants and condoms, and arrived at the pharmacist in good time.
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One woman stood in front of me in line and stood as a stand in the ashes between me and the shame that was about to come. I told the pharmacist that I needed the day after pill. “Postinor,” he said, pulling out a pink pack. “The thing is”, I stammered, “I just don’t think that at my age I need it, I mean I still have… but maybe I’m exaggerating?”.
Shop: Super Pharm
Address: Yishpro Complex, Hatish 6 Nes Ziona
What are sold: You know what they sell at the supermarket – self-improvement illusions.
What I was looking for: My husband and I had a very successful evening that ended, by mistake, in the suspicion of Pro Verbo. I ignored it for a whole day, I said to myself “let it go, you’re 53 years old, your last period must have been your last, your follicles fall out while brushing your teeth, you’re not pregnant”. The man said “You may be 53 but I’m not yet, and my boys can swim. Good morning, Mom,” and kissed me on the forehead. And I thought about the headline that would be in the newspaper, ‘A woman gave birth to a grandson’, so I put on my shoes and went to the supermarket.
What I left with: Postinor – the day after pill, NIS 98
Life tip from the pharmacist (Amar, 35): “Anything can happen in life, I think it’s better to be safe, and always consult a doctor if you have any doubts.”
Pharmacist Amar took a look through the glass at my white hair and wrinkles and the Slash Pajama sweatshirt and the general lassitude, and I saw that he also thought that there was a situation where I had exaggerated. Then he smiled a good, cute and understanding smile, and said in a soft voice that it’s not dangerous if you take it once in a while… and that if I want to be completely sure, then maybe it’s really worth checking. “How much is it?” I asked. “98 shekels,” he said. “On one pill?”, I gasped, “cheaper to give birth!”.
Amar laughed and said that’s how it is. “There is a cheaper one from another company, but they don’t have it in stock, and there is an even more expensive one that works even five days after the event.” After I paid he closed the window and spread a small carpet on the floor to pray. I went home to find out what had become of the extended family.
On the way home I remembered that I also needed tampons, in case it wasn’t my last period, so I stopped at Kobe’s grocery store, near the house. Kobi racks the tampons high above the cigarettes, on the wall behind the cash register. How many women do I know who can reach two meters high? maybe one. I must not be her. 1.59 meters on a good day (which is not today).
“Coby, can I have tampons?”, I said, and he replied “Sure, Kaffra, tell me which one”. And he stood like that with his hand outstretched in the air, hovering over the mini tampons and I said “cold cold”, and he moved his hand towards the mini plus and I said “warming up”, so he pointed to the regular one and now the whole line stopped following the constitutional committee on TV and went live to the tampon drama. No one breathed a sigh of relief as Kobe slowly and hesitantly moved from the regular to the super, and only when he got to the super plus and I said “hot burning hot”, the column sighed in relief, and almost clapped as it landed.
When I returned home, I saw that my husband had scattered photos from old albums that he found in the Passover arrangements on the table. He asked if I thought it was creepy that he was looking at a picture of me from the age of 16 and thinking lewd thoughts about me. I said it was only half creepy and half sweet, considering the fact that he had a crush on me even then, but waited another two years before he dared to do something about it.
I thought to myself how many versions of me he slept with, Rabak – with a spiky virgin with freckles and a perfect ass, with an embarrassed and regretful bride, with a confused and pregnant young woman, with a woman after lying next to her with stitches and nipple inflammation, with a daring mother, with an exhausted woman with no libido , with a woman who thinks about work, with a woman who thinks about others, with a woman who is eager and mature and uninhibited, and me in the updated version of 2023, with the white hair and the wrinkles and the pajamas and the herniated disc and the postinor.
Sol said “Look what a hottie you were and see how you are now even more”. But I didn’t want to look at pictures of me as a young woman. “You owe me NIS 98,” I said. And he said, “What, about the baby? Thieves, it’s cheaper to give birth!”.
#buy #Postinor #age #give #birth