How Difficult is it to Leave a Supermarket?

I have become cognizant of the fact that upon leaving my local supermarket more often than not I go via the bra aisle. This is no habitat for a man, fore here the female is dominant. She speaks in a series of numbers and letters making less sense to a man than she usually does. I try to negotiate my way between the gaggles (yes look it up, gaggle is the collective noun for a group of women shopping for bras) squeezing my way through (this is not a good environment for squeezing if one is trying to maintain their level of stealth). I negotiate my way along the aisle with my firm baguette in hand(literal not figurative,) cans of hot dog sausages, bananas and every other phallic shaped food item any good supermarket or sex shop could be expected to stock. By now evey female’s perv alert has been triggered, my presence has become so obvious there is only one thing left I can do to salvage some pride, adopt a cool walk. I now start to flamboyantly sashay my way down the aisle, scattering penis shaped food items to the four corners of the supermarket, while destroying displays of women wearing nothing but their underwear. Eventually I make it to a checkout, looking cool and with my dignity intact. Whilst one feels a certain level of debasement, ultimately I am left with a grin knowing I got away with it again.