An Open Letter to My Local Target
Dear Target,
When I take my eleven year old son to go shopping at your store, we usually see it as a fun outing. The possibility of popcorn and/or an Icee is too enticing to risk staying at home!
There are certain places in the store I try to avoid when I am with him. The candy aisle, for instance. No need to be pestered about sugary things I am not going to purchase. Sometimes the cookie aisle, too, although we sometimes buy them on purpose!
Another aisle I try to skip is the "feminine care" aisle, although he does know what tampons are for. It isn't so much the tampons that I'm trying to pass by, but the ah, "intimate aids" section that is in the same aisle as the tampons. I'm not sure if this implies that women are the main purchasers of condoms and such, but possibly there might be a better place for them.
However, I am aware of where they are in the store, and will try to approach the tampons from the other side without passing the boxes that scream "More Pleasure for Her!"
Not because I don't want my son to know there are such things as condoms, but because I don't think Target is necessarily the best place for my son to ask the types of questions that would arise should he see them. At home, fine. But I'm just trying to pick up my Kotex and get out of there, not engage in Sex Ed 101 in the checkout line.
So, imagine my surprise when my son, who notices a product on the endcap display, catches up to me in the floor cleaner aisle. "Hey Mom!" he shouts. "Do you want to experience sensual warmth?" I stop dead in my tracks as he waves a bottle of lube in my face. Seriously, Target, lube on the endcap? That is all kinds of wrong. "I want to experience nothing of the sort!" I huff, ordering him to put the damn thing back on the shelf.
Well, I mean, sure, I WOULD like to experience sensual warmth, but that question has NO BUSINESS being asked by an eleven year old to his mother. NONE. I would now like Target to send me some brain bleach so I can forever rid myself of that particular experience.
Yours Truly,
Gina
PS. I wasn't even this upset when you leaked my credit card numbers and my banks had to send me two new ones because of your screw up. This was worse than that. Get it together Target, GET IT TOGETHER.
When I take my eleven year old son to go shopping at your store, we usually see it as a fun outing. The possibility of popcorn and/or an Icee is too enticing to risk staying at home!
There are certain places in the store I try to avoid when I am with him. The candy aisle, for instance. No need to be pestered about sugary things I am not going to purchase. Sometimes the cookie aisle, too, although we sometimes buy them on purpose!
Another aisle I try to skip is the "feminine care" aisle, although he does know what tampons are for. It isn't so much the tampons that I'm trying to pass by, but the ah, "intimate aids" section that is in the same aisle as the tampons. I'm not sure if this implies that women are the main purchasers of condoms and such, but possibly there might be a better place for them.
However, I am aware of where they are in the store, and will try to approach the tampons from the other side without passing the boxes that scream "More Pleasure for Her!"
Not because I don't want my son to know there are such things as condoms, but because I don't think Target is necessarily the best place for my son to ask the types of questions that would arise should he see them. At home, fine. But I'm just trying to pick up my Kotex and get out of there, not engage in Sex Ed 101 in the checkout line.
So, imagine my surprise when my son, who notices a product on the endcap display, catches up to me in the floor cleaner aisle. "Hey Mom!" he shouts. "Do you want to experience sensual warmth?" I stop dead in my tracks as he waves a bottle of lube in my face. Seriously, Target, lube on the endcap? That is all kinds of wrong. "I want to experience nothing of the sort!" I huff, ordering him to put the damn thing back on the shelf.
Well, I mean, sure, I WOULD like to experience sensual warmth, but that question has NO BUSINESS being asked by an eleven year old to his mother. NONE. I would now like Target to send me some brain bleach so I can forever rid myself of that particular experience.
Yours Truly,
Gina
PS. I wasn't even this upset when you leaked my credit card numbers and my banks had to send me two new ones because of your screw up. This was worse than that. Get it together Target, GET IT TOGETHER.
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