“WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE,” my 3-year-old daughter shouted as if filming a scene in a Mission Impossible movie. We couldn’t. We were trapped between a salesclerk drowning in cologne and college students. They couldn’t decide between the shirt exposing their breasts or a skirt that left little to the imagination. My head was spinning. I couldn’t see the exit. The room was not built for a stroller. I kept bumping into metal racks. Muscle shirts were falling to the ground like autumn leaves. The room was dark. Bulbs meant for Light Bright dangled from the ceiling illuminating nothing. My eardrums were vibrating to the beat of blaring techno music. It was hell. I was stuck inside Abercrombie & Fitch. My toddler covered her ears, “IT’S TOO LOUD!” I maneuvered our outdated stroller around swimsuits, finally leading us to freedom.

We went to a few more stores. It was like you could hear a pin drop when I stepped foot in “Forever 21.” I wasn’t looking to buy a half top. I prefer to surprise the fellas with my kangaroo pouch. I wanted a cardigan. They are cute and cheap which is pretty much how I pick out all my clothes. We did get to see Siegfried and Roy.


I don’t go to the mall very often, but was hoping to find some bargains. My 13-year-old grows out of his clothes faster than guys are dumping Taylor Swift. After today’s shopping trip I feel like a senior citizen. The AARP mailer should be delivered any day. Now I know why I shop online.

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