This morning I had a precious few minutes to spare before work, so I ran into Shelton’s Natural Food Market in Healdsburg to get a bottle of Vitex, which I’d run out of a few days ago.
Vitex is this herb, or something, which a friend recommended to me a couple of years ago when I noticed that I started having major, unexpected, and over-the-top mood swings which made me feel like an exploding emo-bomb as I slurfed around the house in my slippers and oversized sweatshirt, listening to Beach House and The Cure, and made me act like an all-out bitch.
So, this stuff evens me out. I still get a little pissy from time to time, but it’s nothing compared to the spinning-head tiny dinosaur that took over my body once a month before.
When I walked into Shelton’s, like at any other health store, I couldn’t find what I was looking for. No matter how many times I’ve looked for something at that exact same store, I can never find it the next time. Why can I never find what I’m looking for?!
The woman standing at the checkstand, seeing that I was walking in circles, came over to ask if I needed any help with anything (plus one big point for going above and beyond the call of duty).
Me: Where is the Vitex?
Clerk: What’s that?
Me: It’s, like, an herbal supplement or something
Clerk: Hm…(looks around, finds it) here it is! Hmmm (looks closely at bottle, studying it’s ingredients). What is this?
I stood beside her, holding my hand centimeters away from the bottle of Vitex she held, which I thought to be a very clear sign that I would like to take it from her and go about my business. Instead she asked, “so, what is this for?”
Let me stop here and say this – don’t ask. Seriously. If you’re curious, look it up later, but don’t stand there and ask someone what the bottle of pills they want is for. Especially if they came in wearing sunglasses and kept them on while they searched for said pills! Sure, I’m in the habit of keeping my sunglasses on when I know I’ll only be inside for a minute or two, because they’re prescription and switching them is a pain. But that isn’t the point.
What if those herbs were meant to treat a nasty yeast infection, or to help cure open wounds in my armpits? That is not something I’d want to stand next to the salad bar discussing with a stranger.
Luckily for me, this was not the case. But still. (Minus one point for asking what could be a delicate question)
Me: It makes me not go coo-coo crazy when I’m PMSing.
Clerk: Huh! Really! I’ve never heard of it, I’ll have to–
Me: –yeah and I ran out a few days ago. Can I have that please? I’m in a hurry.
She handed over the bottle. As we walked to the register and she rang me up, she wanted to talk further about mood swings and female changes and, hey, I can’t blame her. Who doesn’t love a good chat about the Womanly art of Hormones?
Overall I like Shelton’s and am grateful that Healdsburg has a go-to place for wacky fruit-based pills when I need them. If ever I do go in searching for underarm-sore treatment, however, I’ll just politely refuse any offers of help I receive from the well-meaning staff.