Most Depressing Activity EVER
Yesterday, on the first day of exams, I decided to reward myself for being moderately productive on my English paper and go shopping. I had in my possession a check for Cape Henry blood-money, a check which I intended to cash immediately and with not a little spite at the way I’d been treated after the interview. I talked to RAW for the first time in months, and she told me the scoop that the fucking Headmaster had called her mom the day before my trip to ask “So, what can we do to get Thea?” This, from the people who didn’t even offer me a job? I was assured that I had indeed been abused, making me all that much more enthusiastic about sticking it to my high school’s administration by spending their money.
All I wanted to do on this rainy, quiet Monday was buy a pair of jeans, maybe some earrings, or a cute spring skirt. I should have known better than to expect a productive shopping experience at King of Prussia Mall, for several reasons.
- I neglected to put on makeup
- Was not wearing 2+ inch heels
- Had not (respecting the deleterious effect that the rain would have on my unruly locks) straightened my hair
- Did not coordinate my purse and pants
- Wore my old REI fleece instead of cute jean/northface jacket which I do not own.
All I needed to do was replace my ripped Abercrombie jeans (btw, the best jeans EVER) which my fat self ripped while playing volleyball, completely sober, on Founders’ Green during Haverfest. Okay, so it’s hard to have a fat *knee*, but you get the point. You know things are bad when I get irrationally angry at full-length mirrors and specific garments. The salespeople ignored me in Abercrombie, leaving me to wander around the store in pants that were falling off of my ass because they were too big, in search of my size. No luck.
Fine, no practical clothing? Off to Arden B for complete frivolity; too expensive, too cute, too trendy. Found a perfect skirt, but again, while waiting 10 MINUTES for the retail assistant to come back with another size, I realized that she’d forgotten that I existed. I walked out of the store completely unnoticed. Same deal in Rampage, Bebe, Jessica McClintock looking for graduation dresses. I couldn’t even bring myself to go IN to BCBG, Kenneth Cole, or J Crew for fear of more humilating degredation. Thus, with a ridiculous over $200 in cash burning a hole through its bank envelope, I spent $3.60 on a latte at Starbucks and fled the scene of consumeristic impotence.
All the mirrors seemed to accentuate my whiteness, my lack of togetherness, and my lack of expensive car/accessories/outerwear. All the salesgirls looked down at me, as did half the other shoppers, and I didn’t even look THAT BAD! People wonder why teenagers’ self-images get distorted, why you feel like shit between 13 and 20. I’ll fucking tell you why: places and people like those which fester in suburban upper-income-bracket Pennsylvania. Ick.
In an attempt to salvage an otherwise miserable and flat out depressing day, I swung by Suburban Square to try on the dress that I’d been eyeing at Gap, which fit horribly and thus saved me another buying decision. Done, finished, I surrender. Concede defeat to the shitty spring fashions tailored for those abnormal females with no hips or quads. What ended up redeeming the day, irony of ironies, was my salsa rosa pasta dinner (divine, if I must say myself), the leftovers of which I guiltily ate for lunch, dwelling on the cream-content in high school-esque paranoia. Enough, enough, I say!
I will go for long runs in the afternoon sun, eat strawberries and whipped cream with abandon, and say “fuck it” to Abercrombie, Arden B. and Banana Republic. I will not eat to alleviate the stress of my nonexistent summer plans, nor the disapproving comments of my mother regarding my desire to purchase a cat, or spend a week with my boyfriend. “You want to stay in the same APARTMENT with him for a WEEK?!” Jesus christ, woman, what do you *think* does on at school? I will not let my fear of bikini weather paralyze/mutate my love of good food, and I sure as hell won’t go to King of Prussia again without putting myself together beforehand.
10 pages of papers left to write, one oral exam, and 4 days! Woo hoo, freedom, you’re soooo close.