I think they must gas us at the mall–spray us with some mind-altering substance. I went in feeling great about myself, and now I feel like a slob.
I smelled something strong around the Abercrombie and Fitch. I thought it was cologne or the scent of those special people who can actually wear Abercrombie. But now I know what it was: drugs.
Nothing is right anymore.
My shoes don’t match my bag, and they don’t go right with these jeans. That doesn’t matter, because the jeans are saggy around the butt so they must go. I will slip into a pair of these hundred-dollar jeans and then all shall be well. My t-shirt doesn’t hug my curves right, so I’ll trade it for another. I’ll drop a hundred bucks on jewelry. I’ll buy new makeup, I’ll…!
Collapse at Starbucks, exhausted and broke.
The coffee soothes my nerves and washes away the drugs. I see myself for what I am: a foot-sore consumer among thousands. No one is looking at my clothes. No one is looking at my hair. They are busy looking at themselves, and their saggy jeans, and their outdated shoes.
Where has my reason gone? Wasn’t I a fiscally responsible, ‘un-shallow’, free-spirited person just yesterday? How did I get swept into this?
Drugs, I tell you. They alter your mind.
So I sip my iced coffee and I resolve to smile bigger, to greet the sales people with more enthusiasm, to thank them for their help, to move with grace and peace, and mostly, to slow down–to stop this frantic acquiring and actually enjoy myself. It may be the only way I stand out in the crowd.