The Shopper

I take in my last breath of fresh, free air and pull the glass door open. Inside, a young sales-girl/woman stands behind a barricade of brasiers, belts and dapperly dressed dummies, folding scrambled piles of preshrunk colored cotton tee-shirts. She is decorated with dangling delicate necklaces; multiple layers of mismatching cardigans and camisoles; perfectly frazzled auburn hair and one leather green grenade, which drapes across her slender boobless structure (over the necklaces and cardigans), by a beautiful black satin purse strap. My knees lock when I see the potential explosion strapped to this stranger, but before I can run to the messy disappointing side of a sales rack, she is tilting her small head up and engaging her sparkly shadowed eyes with my bare baby blues. Then, without the hint of a blink, she places the grenade cap between her lip-glossed lips and throws me a high-pitched..


"Hi!"


"hi."


"Welcome to The Clothing Store You Can't Afford. Nice dirty sneakers and stretched out tee-shirt. My name is Nag. Let me know if I can help you find your size because we both know you'll feel obligated to buy anything once I've scavenged through a daunting, leaning pile of Smalls and Extra-Smalls to find you that Medium you're sort of considering trying on. And just so you know, today, when you spend the money you should be saving for that heating bill you just wrote a check for, you also receive a receipt with a printed list of all your financial guilt. Do you have the Can't Afford Credit Card?..I didn't think so. If you open one today, you will also receive a paper white bag, which will sit in your bedroom closet beside your ugly shoes, silently begging you to fill it with a new pair of trousers, flashy argyle socks, another black sweater and an orange purse -of all things- which you'll later realizes matches nothing. Holler if you need me. Remember me, Nag, at the register."

Inside the warm white lights of the dressing room, I can hide everything but my ankles. No one can touch me here.

knock. knock. knock!


"Hey, it's Nag, how's it going in there? Any luck?"

Surrounded by flung and hung garments, in my underwear, I stare blankly at my reflection, numb with disgust.


"Fine thanks."

I say, waving a white scarf and positioning my middle finger to aim precisely where her stupid, flawless face probably is.