Capitalist Mecca Falls

Ok, so I thought that since Justin T. decided to bring sexy back, I ought to at least TRY to contribute to his cause. Tonight is New Years Eve and as I am actually going out for once, I should at least wear something sparkly, show a little (or a fair amount of) cleavage, or find some sick looking stilettos to wear with my jeans and a great top. (Yes, friends, this is definitely a departure from tree climbing Ginger who never realized that she had a figure... until that day at the high school swim party when she wore her first bikini... then everyone knew that something might actually be possible in that area... so she immediately hid it away (but that's a different horror story.)) Anyway, my thought process was this: "I bet there are still tons of after-Christmas sales going on at the mall. - I have a Dillard's gift card that I need to use. - With a sale and a gift card, I might be able to afford something at Dillard's for once. - - - I'm going." And I went.

As I drove toward capitalist Mecca a.k.a. The Parks Mall, I noticed that the parking lot wasn't as crowded as I thought it might be.

Cool.

I parked near Dillard's, got out of the car, walked towards the glass double doors, mindfully paused to breathe, checked that I was donning my Buddhist half-smile, and entered the first level of Dante's Inferno.

I know I'm a smart girl. At least, I work really hard at being a smart girl. I study constantly and am a reading snob. I travel as much as I can to broaden my world view. I sip Merlot, eat "shtuff" that you spread on crackers, and participate at the Dallas Institute specifically to challenge my intellect. I tried being a vegetarian for a week (and hated it, but the point is I made an informed decision). I drink coffee because it smells intelligent. So what in the HELL was I thinking?

Here's what happened:

Immediately, I went to what I consider the "Euro Chic" section: trendy, sparkly clothes - New Year's clothes that I probably won't fit into (because apparently, American department stores think that size 2 is average even though we are all grossly and piggishly overweight according to the media). I did find some cute items, but 50% off of these is still $100.00. No can do. Still, I have my zen-worthy half-smile. I'm fat and zen. Everything is OK.

I thought that maybe I should just brush off the cute top idea and stick to shoes. I went directly to the shoe department where people were turning around into each other because it was so crowded, and employees were sighing in the back room loudly enough for all of us to hear over the Keane playing on the loud speaker (and for the record, I DO NOT begrudge them their sighs!). I tried on a couple of pairs of shoes, decided that I needed to figure out what I was wearing before I bought shoes.. so I went back to the EC section upstairs.

Oh yeah. I can't afford or fit into clothes in the EC section. Damn it! OK, breathe. Quarter-smile in place... Before I left the EC section, I did run into a delightful woman who was wearing one of those earpieces that was originally intended for the Secret Service but which everyone who's anyone has (except for me because I don't want to look like I'm talking to myself). This woman was extremely animated. I picked up on the fact that she wanted to return something without a receipt - something that was purchased six months ago - and the woman, "could remember (in a very loud voice), the exact day that this article of clothing was bought, specifically as a Christmas gift!!!" The poor clerk was pleading with the woman in the most polite way she could. She was sorry, but without a receipt, there was nothing she could do, especially since she didn't recognize that article of clothing. This received the overrated and overused, "I want to speak to your manager!" from the shopper. Worried for my own well being, I left, quarter-smile fading.

I decided, against my better judgement, to try Express. From a distance, I could see the 60% off sign. I did not have a gift certificate for Express, but surely 60% off was a beacon of light. The second I entered, I realized that I wasn't actually in a clothing store but at a feeding trough for very thin barnyard animals. Seriously, there were bins marked small and medium (because, again, real American women don't wear more than a size 6(!)) and I was pushed and bumped out of the way. (sigh)

Retreat!!! Raise the white flag!!! Flee! Flee! Flee!!!

To make a very long story short: I ran away from capitalist Mecca, hands empty and with any notion of a zen-smile deflated, fighting thoughts that, at size 8, I am NOT huge, and that I will find something in my closet other than sweats to wear to our New Years party...

Last thought: Don't be an ass. Be nice to store clerks and STOP (for Christ's sake) pushing folks out of the way. You'll want the new spring line (that stores will put out tomorrow) more than anything you bought today anyway.