Saturday, June 26, 2010


So, I'm in Torrid looking at shorts. The sales girl is very helpful, pulling out every pair of non-denim shorts they have. Unfortunately, most are short-shorts. And, I ain't trying to wear those. "No, those aren't age-appropriate" is what I repeatedly tell the sales girl. Finally, she gets it and I'm off to the dressing room with 3 pairs of shorts.

Also in the store, being helped by the same sales girl, is a teenaged girl and her mother. We follow each other around store: me picking up a top she puts down, she picking up shorts I put down. She ends up with an armful of clothes in a dressing room across from me.

The shorts didn't really work for me. No big deal. Ready to walk out, the sales girl comes back with one more pair. I step out to look at myself in the 3-way mirror. It's quiet...the sales girl and I have the same look - that scrunched-up nose thing...when the mother of the teenage girl says "Do you think those shorts are appropriate for a woman your age?" I turn and say "These shorts are appropriate for a woman with my legs."

In the dressing room, I was all "Some nerve!" By the time I made it to my car, I just figured she'd heard what I was saying to the sales girl in the store and wanted to chime in...or be helpful...or something. Whatever.

I didn't buy those shorts either.

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