PickledCherub

As Claire would say, total big dig. (What is that supposed to mean, Claire?) Ruth took me to her Tupperware rally. I collected literature as my sister and I made fun of the whole process. The head lady's name was Amy, too (quel coincidence), and she was a total vag. I mean, she reminded me of a trained monkey--a monkey trained by a motivational speaker, but still a monkey. A loud, self-absorbed, obnoxious monkey.

So, now I have another thing to be ashamed of--or not really. I don't know. Here it is . . . deep breath: I am a Tupperware lady now. Holy shit. Sis says it's not like joining a cult, and she should know, because she's a recovering born-again Christian. Amy, at the meeting, which was part product give-away, part motivational pitch, part indoctrination, kept saying that when she runs a Tupperware party, she goes in with an attitude: "When I'm in there, for those two and a half hours, I am the Tupperware lady. I am there to make money. I am friendly, I work the crowd, I am the Tupperware LADY!"

Ruth leaned over to me and said, "I'm just here for the cheap Tupperware." And, laden with sarcasm, "Isn't this just the most motivational, greatest thing you've ever been to?" "Oh, yeah. I don't think that I've ever felt quite like this before."

Ironic detachment aside, now I am a Tupperware lady. Shit.