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November 14, 2006
Forever 21?
This shit sent me right back into a tailspin!
Last night, with no shame whatsoever, I went to the mall specifically for Forever 21. I saw a sweater online that I thought was cute. But we all know, with Forever 21, there is no impulse online purchasing. You have to make the effort and go into the blinding white lights and sort through the billion racks to find the one thing you really like. Furthermore, you must feel and tug and pull and inspect each item to see if it is truly worth your hard-earned $19.80. And you have to be sure now. Those m’fuckers don’t give the money back. If you decide you don’t like it, you have to just settle on $22.08 worth of earrings that will break the second you take them off the little plastic display square thing. So, this shit is a commitment.
Now, I had gone in there with my tube dress on over very tight jeans so that I could just pull the sweater on over my dress, pull the dress down and see how the sweater would look with the jeans. Have you ever tried to get a dressing room at Forever 21? Wack. And that curtain ain’t even closed so I’m not really trying to be back there. Besides, the last time I was in their dressing room, I had a bad experience. This girl was in the next one talking a gang of shit about me.
Ooh, let me get sidetracked and tell this story.
So I’m in Forever 21 minding my own business. I’m trying on this white eyelet dress. It’s voluminous on the bottom with pockets and it’s thin and strappy on the top so I’m thinking I need to see it on first. Because voluminous on the bottom with these Shorty-given chicken scraps that I got for calves might not work. So I’m back there and I’m trying shit on and I hear my name. Not Melissa, but “that girl from the Real World” which is just like hearing my name.
Here’s the thing. If you see me and you think it’s me and for some reason you care because that's possible, please don’t hmm and haw in the corner and loudly whisper my name. Just say HI and then I’ll say hi and we might have something in common. Shit, you never know. But don’t hmm and haw and stand there all awkward because then I’m feeling all uncomfortable too and then the wrong message is sent. You perceive that I’m some bitch who thinks she’s got it like that because, throughout the course of being uncomfortable, I’ve put my head down and slinked on over to the wall of furry scarves. So not only do you think that I think you think I know full well you saw me and I tried to bounce, but you now also think that I’m interested in these silvery glittery hot pink feather boas and I’m not. Well, let me just touch it.
Okay, so anyway. I’m in the dressing room between two girls. Mere curtains between us. So Girl One peeks her head out of her room and asks, in regular speaking voice, Girl Two to peek out. She peeks out.
In a whisper Girl One says, “That girl from the Real World in here trying to act like she all famous.”
And Girl Two whispers back, “Where?”
And G1 whispers, “In there.” Probably pointing to my little dumb ass curtain which is hella moving around because there’s a certain way I have to remove my tight ass tunic in order to a) not get deodorant all over it and b) not fuck up my hair bun. By the way, Secret Invisible Solid – you need a new formula because it’s a lie. There are white marks everywhere!
Keep in mind, I’m still trying on my clothes but I can hear everything. I’m in there, minding my business, tripping off my bony ankles and now I’m looking in the mirror mouthing to myself, “What the fuck?”
So Girl One goes, “Umhmm, she was walking around here trying to get e’rybody attention.”
This is me talking to you again. Look, I assure you I did not walk into fucking Forever Twenty fucking One trying to floss. I’m in here trying to get my bargain on just like everybody else. If anything, I was skulking around trying to make it quick. Years ago, I saw Beyonce in Forever 21 and she was really shopping with no fear and I felt better about myself. Then again, I did wonder to myself, Is she out of her mind? Isn’t there a Marc Jacobs she could be shutting down to shop alone in? But I'm a regular person with regular chintzy material'd clothing needs so give me a break.
Anyway, they timed it so that they would walk out of the dressing room when I did so that there would be forced eye contact and hateration (TM Mary J Blige). But I was prepared for this encounter and started texting on my phone before I walked out so I looked all occupied. I did this, one, to ease their own embarrassment and not let them think that I heard them. And secondly, to banish any and all possibility that I might have to talk to them. I’m nice to everyone, but if I sense any hate, I do a quick once-over which is really stank and very cutting, with just the eyes, no verbs and I keep it moving. I do not like to employ this tactic so I always play like I didn’t see or hear what I know I just saw or heard.
When they rang up, I hoped that they went straight home to find and study the bible verse located on the bottom of their Forever 21 loud ass yellow shopping bag. Stankin’ asses.
Now, back to my original story.
So I didn’t find anything at Forever 21, but I felt like I needed to buy something and keep something. Not buy something to return because I get that urge as well. If you’ve been with me for a long time, you know about my shopping bulimia.
I ended up in this shoe store but they also had bags. Really cute leather bags that were non-descript but expensive looking and not so obviously trying to knock off a “real” bag. So I’m looking and hmming and hawing and pulling zippers and checking side pockets and stressing out about whether or not I’m going to get this bag.
The salesgirl approaches and says, “Does anybody ever tell you you look just like that lady on the Real World?”
Let me repeat that and put emphasis where emphasis is due.
She said, “Does anybody ever tell you you look just like that lady on the Real World?”
Once again, “Does anybody ever tell YOU YOU look just like THAT LADY on the Real World?”
Taken aback, I replied, “I usually get that girl, but I’ll take that lady. Sure, yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
So the girl goes on about her business not thinking it’s me because I didn’t say YES I am her. People need me to say that in order to believe for some reason. But if you want me to say that, you have to ask the right question. If you ask me, “Has anyone ever told you that you look just like…” I will say, “Yes, I hear that daily actually. Funny.” And if you ask me, “Are you old girl off the Road Rules?” I’ll say, “No, I wasn’t on that show” because I wasn’t. Yes, there is actually an inner Real World Road Rules hierarchy of "fame" that is never discussed out loud but is blatantly there. So when a Road Ruler, or a replacement Road Ruler from when they started kicking fools off, crosses that line into a higher echelon of celebrity which is ridiculous to even discuss because we're still less famous than someone like Jared the Subway man or maybe even Bobbi Kristina. But when a Road Ruler gets their fame on, we're all like wow, and you only had to [insert blasphemous shit caught on tape here] to get there, not bad. Or maybe that's just me and I'm totally out of my mind. Probably that. Yeah. Whatever, like you never thought of that.
And if you say, “What nationality are you?” I’ll say American because that’s the answer you sought. Yes, I know, I’m being a smart ass. But really, I’m just answering the question you asked. Just like, if someone says, “How are you?” and shit ain’t awesome, I say “So so…”
I've complained about this before, I'm sure.
Anyway, I bought the bag. And then J came to pick me up.
I got in the car and he said, “When are you going to return that?”
I said, “I’m keeping this one because I can’t ever go back in that store again. Never!” I pumped my fist in the air as if to really mark my words.
He said, “What happened?” in a regular tone, no surprise. No drama. He’s used to me by now. He knows everything is built up crazy and then not that serious so he’s like, whatever.
I told him that the salesgirl called me “that lady.”
He tried not to laugh.
I immediately went, “I know you’re laughing asshole. How’d you like it if you were called that man over there? Your dad is that man over there. Your accountant is that man over there. You’re still that dude, that guy…”
And I went off on a tangent and went through everybody on his staff and decided whether or not they were “that guy” or “that man.”
Philtern (a guy named Phil who used to be an intern but now he’s a real employee but he’s still Philtern) is that guy. Kump is that guy. The Nerds are those guys. These are the actual employee monikers. The IT Department is collectively called The Nerds. It took me a long time to learn the actual names of each person. I have computer issues every day to the point where I'm coming to you from a straight up old school HP laptop that gets stupid hot and freezes up at the same time. How is that possible, you say. I know, but my computer does it. I have computer issues and it's always, “Just ask one of The Nerds…”
So he said, “Was she like 12?”
I said, “No, she had a job there!”
He said, “She could be on a work permit.”
“No, man” I replied.
He then explained that only children aged 2 through 12 call people “that lady.”
And so I said, “Yeah, that’s the point here. Thanks numb nuts. You’re not helping. She did not fall into the category of children. She was grown, like 17 or something.”
And he said, “Maybe she was being polite.”
Ugh. So now, as I approach my 30th birthday, people are going to start being polite to me because I’m a lady. Well, shit, in that case, I’d rather get shit-talked at the Forever 21 by a bunch of hater teens if it means I’m still a girl.
Posted by melissah at November 14, 2006 11:29 AM