How to Find Pregnancy Creams Overseas...And How Not To.

I've got to hand it to my husband, he got me good on this one. Truthfully, I still don't see first hand just how offensive I was - this is a right reserved only by all of his Hispanic family, who think this story is just hilarious. I'm talking knee slap hilarious. Did I really say something that crude? Apparently.

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It started one day in Zaragoza, Spain, where we currently own an apartment. Carlos, my husband, grew up in Zaragoza and was showing me the town that I would eventually fall for and call a secondary home. We were browsing the El Corte Ingles - basically a massive Macy's store with different levels dedicated to different products, and we were on the pharmaceuticals level. I was pregnant with my daughter at the time, and had the itchiest boobs. Living in Florida all but a matter of weeks in the year, humidity is my friend and itching was never an issue before we got to arid, desert-like Zaragoza. I was itching bad, my nipples were hard as rocks and cracking like the earth's clay in Death Valley. I was miserable. I pleaded with my husband to find me some nipple butter, or some kind of cream to soothe the agony.

Now you have to understand, my husband is not a prankster. He may pull a good joke from time to time, but I never expected him to set me up like he did. He instructed me word for word what to ask the pharmacist, and nudged me towards her as he cowered in a corner pretending to look at other products. I assumed it was embarrassing for him, like being in the bra department, so I obliged and followed through with the task.

"Hola!" I started, friendly as ever. Spaniards aren't generally very cordial to strangers, often leaving their smiles and good manners at home, but she cracked a half smile and responded hello as well.

"Um, yo necesito...mantequilla de tetas?"

I had just asked for butter, nipple butter I figured. Her eyes widened immediately in horror.

Was this a joke? She looked around nervously. I didn't quite understand, so I repeated again. Maybe I hadn't pronounced everything properly. With more confidence this time, I said once more "yo necesito mantequilla de tetas!".

Again, the woman was horrified and struggled to find words on how to respond.

I looked to Carlos, who was now starting to smile. Ok, what was going on here? For my third and final try, I began to rub my hands in circles around my nipple area, looking as innocent as possible. Round and round I rubbed, as if I were massaging in a cream. I said again, "yo necesito mantequilla de tetas!".

This wasn't going well, so as an added gesture I rubbed my belly to show the small bump that I'd been growing. I was only 12 or so weeks along, so it wasn't much to go off of. With this gesture, however she threw her hands in the air with relief and we started having a normal exchange on what they did and didn't have in the store to help me. Meanwhile, Carlos was laughing harder than I'd seen him in a long time.

Apparently, in all my nip rubbing glory I had just asked the lady very crudely for "tit cream". Next time, I'll consult Google Translate first.