This Friday Soon-to-be-J.D. and I made a date. And just like we were high school sweethearts (we’re not), we went to the mall. I needed a makeover. A life upgrade.
Note to self: life upgrades aren’t usually found at a 3-level mall with seven different fro-yo-Pinkberry-esque storefronts, a Love Sac store, and a Louis Vuitton inside of Bloomingdales.
Fortunately, we could drive ourselves. Definite upgrade. We could also eat dinner and it wasn’t Panda Express. Major upgrade.
But unlike my high school relationship with the mall (unadulterated passion), this one didn’t end well. I didn’t buy a thing. No wardrobe upgrade. No makeup upgrade. No kitchen appliance upgrade. Definitely no MacBookAir upgrade (i.want.). Not even the allure of new Lululemon tops could sway me.
A $50 dollar shirt made of organic newspaper did nothing for me. A cowboy hat with leather trim from a trendy store? Not so much. I don’t eat animals, and I try not to wear them. Faux-vintage wears from Urban Outfitters? Um, no. The you’re-too-old-for-this-store-and-this-mall alarm went off the minute I walked in the door. The gleaming and chic aisles of the ultimate makeover spot? Nope. I think people would run for the hills if I actually wore makeup nowadays, all who is this girl? This real life girl?
I wasn’t looking for that type of makeover.