Woolworths – the real inside story.

I don’t feel comfortable shopping at Woolworths or Woollies as we have affectionately nicknamed this retail chain.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d never eat if it weren’t for their TV dinners and my basic Woolies Tees have stood the test of time but there’s something about that store that sneers, “Come back in 5 years time, when you own some gold jewellery and a leather briefcase.”

For years, Woolies (now I’m doing it) have branded themselves as the timeless leader in quality and wholesome living. Heck, they invented the sell-by-date! But I’m assuming some recent market research revealed that in order to maintain their empire like status, they must start tapping the younger generations. Hence, they’ve enlisted a host of ‘hip’ South Africans to inject a modern spirit of individuality into the chain’s brand. Chefs, designers, sports stars and even Miss South Africa now wave the proverbial Woolies flag in giant posters throughout the store.

Typical stereotyping. How to make a stuffy, ‘white’, upper-class store instantly cool? Hire some trendy young black designers to endorse it.
*sigh*

Speaking of stuffy, people often feel they have to justify shopping at Woolworths. You’ll often hear woman saying things like, “but their fruit and veg lasts for weeks, it’s really worth the extra.” Damn straight it is! Those peppers are resilient mothers, what the hell are they growing those things with?

But veg with freakishly long life spans isn’t the only thing that people feel guilty shopping for at Woolies. See the Woolies marketers are a shrewd bunch. In order to get to the tills to pay for your peppers, you have to queue in this aisle of Glucose Temptation. It’s a narrow pathway lined with shelves of sugar-laden goodies.

Resistance is futile.

I think most people feel guilty about popping sour dinosaurs and Spiderman chocolates into their baskets. I’ve often watched a fellow member of the queue pick up a goody and pretend to seriously inspect the ingredients listed on the wrapper. Often they’ll put the goody back, pick up another and repeat the inspection routine before carefully placing it in their basket. It’s as if they’re hoping their actions will say, “I’m entitled to this goody based on a calculated decision. This is not a random, impulse purchase. I can have these sour dinosaurs because as you can see I have a weeks supply of veg in my basket.”

Then you get folk who don’t give a hoot as they toss a supersized bag of Chuckles in their basket. As for my tactic, I whisper to my husband what I want, make him acquire the said goods and pretend not to see - shameful, I know!

Well, I’m off to grab dinner, happy shopping!

Metallica's on telly and I've got new glue dots!

In 1996, my first boyfriend called me a “walking contradiction.’ I was pretty stoked when my favourite band at the time, Green Day, came out with a hit single of the same title.

At 24, I have yet to shake off my crown of contradiction.

Three examples to illustrate:

1. My 21st. A large percentage of the guest list comprised seriously cool musician types. However, I swapped booze for tea at the Westville Baptist Church Hall.

2. My car. I drive a robust Corsa Bakkie that begs for an industrial strength wash ‘n clean. But its rightly distinguishing features? The pink stickers and puppy key ring that hangs form my review mirror.

3. My interests. Scrapbooking embellishments, ribbons and papers are like crack to me. I live for Friday nights when I get to play in a mess of stationary in front of the telly. What am I watching? Usually a metal DVD of sorts.

Yeah, I can be very lame. But when I mentioned this to a friend the other day, she said, “You know what? Lame is honest.”

And I kinda like the ring of that!

But seriously, if I sign up for a Saturday morning quilting class, please haul me off to the Winston on Metal Night for a round of Bloody Mary’s. I’m 24, not 54!

Faith in Limbo

Hello again.

My husband suggested that I follow up my previous blog with some 'witty pearls of wisdom.'

I'm hardly the poster girl for wit or wisdom but Bridget Jones was bang on the money when she said; "It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces."

How anyone sustains an overly-inflated ego in this world is amazing to me. My experience shows that when life tosses you a victory, gravity soon ensues and plonks you back in the sandbox.

After ticking off my final objective on my mental life 'to-do' list, the warm glow of achievement quickly cooled, as I was asked to shut the door on a project close to my heart.

I now find myself on a blank page. Admittedly, I'm more anxious than excited. There are so many question marks over the next few years of my life and I'd like to have a plan.

But I am a woman of faith and I know that I am in limbo for a reason.

However, when victory strikes next, whether it's an unexpected tax return, getting to cuddle a newborn puppy or landing a promotion, I am going to celebrate!

After all, it's the simple joys that carry us through life's valleys and give comfort when you stumble into unknown territory.

Here's to finding out what's around the corner - cheers!

If I could just unclog one blog...

Word. I have decided to start blogging.

But, in true Lauren style I have mixed feelings about this.

For starters, I loathe the term ‘blogging.’
It belongs in the family of vile ‘og’ words such as ‘clog,’ ‘bog’ and…‘log.’

Secondly, my aversion to blogging increased when that Flora ad appeared on TV. You know, the one with the middle-aged housewife talking about channelling her creativity through blogging.
* Cringe. *
The thought of myself logging on with moms worldwide to blog is unsettling.

So why the decision to plug in these words today?

Well, I have always admired people who journal. I think it takes guts and discipline to self-reflect and record one’s thoughts and feelings.

I on the other hand, have been known for purchasing decadent journals filled with fresh, white pages from Exclusive Books. Upon returning home, I’ll proceed to scribble one ridiculously dramatic entry, reread it the next day, cringe, rip the page out and banish the journal to an empty shoebox.

Countless songs on my guitar, scrapbook pages and art projects have met a similar fate. Oh to have what people refer to as a ‘creative streak.’

I shall now, try to overcome this neurotic pattern…

But why purge my thoughts online for all and sundry to see? Well dear friends, I can only hope that my experiences will in someway touch your lives for the better.
Who am I kidding!! The inner narcissist strikes again and hopes for the people to declare that I, Lauren am a wildly gifted writer destined for a career as a trendy, 20-something columnist!

I hate this blog already. Will it be my first and last...only time will tell.

Thanks for reading.

Peace.

PS: Is “peace” a pretentious ending? Celebrities are always saying “peace.” Pah, I like it! Peace out to everyone!