Maybe Forever’s Not Forever
"I’m way too old for this shit," I thought as I held two dresses, two cheap pairs of jeans (if they even qualify as that) and a 3 dollar white t-shirt as I watched a younger girl rifle through her oversized black mesh bag in the Forever 21 dressing room. I needed to get the hell out of there. I walked quickly past neon dresses and heels way too high to even walk a city block in, all while what sounded like a Ciara song blasted in my eardrums at an offensive decibel level. No disrespect to Ciara though, really.
Is 21 not Forever? Are we growing apart? I was starting to feel the pull. I’m a seemingly grown woman. I should be trusted to bring more than 6 items into a dressing room. Or at the very least, leave my black mesh bag hanging directly outside said dressing room. I’ve rummaged long and hard through this disorganized store, poured over racks of flowered crop tops next to NYU students and I don’t trust this damn dressing room attendant to keep an eye on my precious cheaply-made clothing items I’ve just barely found in my size!
While I love a $7.90 price tag, I deserve a real pair of jeans. I’m an adult, I shouldn’t have my legs covered in what doesn’t even quite qualify as a jegging.
"Ooh that’s pretty," I thought as I walked by a gold bracelet. But how many times would I wear it before it slowly started turning my wrist a poisonous shade of blue-green? 2.5 if I’m lucky, and not too sweaty.
I decided to purchase the white t-shirt and a pair of black leggings that I can’t grow too fond of, due to the $3.90 sale tag. They wouldn’t last 3.90 washes. But hey, why not.
As I waited in line I noticed the woman in front of me with Tory Burch-looking shoes and smart slacks on. Yup, “smart slacks.” What’s she doing here? Well, the same thing I’ll be doing in the future. Popping in for a statement necklace to wear once, or a dress for a fun night out that won’t see the light of day or the moon, ever again.
As I stepped up to the register the weary cashier only smiled back at me after I smiled first. “Do you know our return policy?” she asked. I do, I told her. But the real question was, what is my policy on ever returning myself to this store?
Maybe today I realized, I haven’t been 21 in Forever.