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Do Moms Really Read This Stuff?

September 23, 2011 by  
Filed under Uncategorized

by Julie Davidson

Two years ago, I was thrilled to be asked to join a book club. Not because I like reading. Seriously, I still like picture books. But this group of women is really cool. So, when they asked if I wanted to join I was all over it.

The month Gina was hosting book club she sent out an e-mail about the book she wanted us to read. She said the book had cussing. And crime. And sex.” Great…now our husbands may want to join. The title of the book was G Spot. Gulp.

So there I was, wondering how I was gonna get the book. The library? It would be my luck to get to the check-out and realize my card was expired. Meanwhile, the librarian would have the book on the counter in plain sight while she updated my card. And I could see her giving me quick looks of disapproval, calling me a pervert in her mind.

If I ordered the book in the mail, it would get delivered while I was at work. It wouldn’t fit in the mail slot, so the delivery person would take it to Kyra’s house next door. Then I’d have to get it from her, and before she’d hand it over to me she’d undoubtedly ask what it is. I can here the conversation now. “Oh that looks like a book. What’s the title?”
She’s a huge reader so lying isn’t really an option, so I’d tell her. “It’s called G Spot.”

Then there would be this awkward 10-second pause before I’d tell her it’s a gag gift for a bachelorette party. Then she’d smile and tell me that it sounds like the perfect raunchy gift for such an occasion.

Whatever. I decided I would just go to Barnes and Noble Sunday after church. Yeah. I’ll ask for forgiveness then get to sinning.

There we were, kids in tow at the bookstore. Charles told me to get the book. I reminded him of the title, and he quickly took the boys to the kids’ section. Okay that part is taken care of. I mean I really don’t need the boys saying, “Hey how come the lady on the cover is kind of naked? I see boobs.”

I had no clue where to find the book, so I headed to the check-out I usually go to. Great. It’s a guy. I suddenly felt really dirty. I asked him, “Um, do you have the book, G Spot?”

He asked for clarification. “The name is G Spot?” Oh God. I should have gone the mail order route.

“Yes, that’s the title.”

He gets on his computer and I’m standing there beginning to get flushed. I mean, it was worse than waiting to see if you have exceeded your credit limit as you make a purchase.

He looks up from his computer and points to another counter that I need to go to. Then he gets on his walkie-talkie thing and says, “Customer assistance lower level.” He said something else that I didn’t understand, and I was convinced that it was code for “dirty book purchase.” Perfect. Now all the employees can look at the forty-something lady that is buying the steamy read.

As I head over to the “dirty book” counter I see an older couple heading over too. I walk slowly, hoping they will go ahead of me, but they motion for me to go first. I meet the new customer service guy. I really don’t want to have to say the name of the book. It’s like a drug deal or something. The best I could muster was, “I was told you could find a book for me.” He gives me a look like he wants to say, “Yeah. That’s what we do here. We sell people books.”

He didn’t say that but did ask me the name of the book. Oh no. And the old people are behind me.

“G Spot.” I tell him. He looks up at me like he doesn’t understand me.

“I’m sorry. Say again?” He asks.

On top of being embarrassed, I am getting upset. I’m thinking to myself, Say again? No I don’t want to say it again! Give me the book!”

I very curtly replied, “It’s called G Spot.”

He began typing away on his computer. It looks like we have a copy. You need to go back to that other counter.”

What the…? Aren’t they paid to get books for people? Oh I get it. If you want a “dirty book” you have to get it yourself. Like bagging your own groceries at the discount grocery stores.

So five minutes into my smut book journey I’m back where I started. Now the first guy to help me sees me at the counter and turns to the shelf behind him. I feel very dirty. Not to mention my kids are in the same store.

At this point I have very little dignity left so I ask the guy,” Is the book back there behind the counter because it’s dirty?”

He told me no. He explained they changed the store around and had to move inventory. That helped salvage some of my dignity.

I’m not a prude. Really. But I kept feeling that as a mom I shouldn’t be reading that kind of stuff. Ridiculous. I know. But I will say searching for, buying, and reading a Dr. Seuss book was far less stressful.

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