Bra Shopping and Boy Trolling
/I don't know how it happened but somehow I found myself agreeing to take my teenaged daughter and her same-aged cousin shopping.
Bra shopping.
Ya.
If that wasn't bad enough, I promised I'd take them to the largest shopping mall in North America, currently the 12th biggest mall in the world. (According to Wikipedia. And we all know Wiki never lies.)
Because bra shopping in the mecca of North American consumerist excess is the funnest idea EVER!
Add in two teenaged girls, my bad back, and all the punk arsed boys making goo-goo eyes at my gals and today is shaping up to be a fantastic day.
The good news is, when I tear my hair out in frustration with the girls (and you know I will) there will be places I can go to immediately buy new hair. That's the charm of West Edmonton Mall. I can buy fresh sushi from the fish market in China Town and walk across the mall to find new hair. Synthetic, horse and human!
Hair for everyone! Baldness is not an option. Unless of course you want it to be.
I don't really have a point to this post. I'm just trying to work through the horrifying realization that my niece is going to be here any minute, I'm still sitting here in my bathrobe, and I can't get past the memory of what I did at the Big Mall of Consumerism when I was 16 years old.
I trolled for boys.
Since 16 year old girls (and almost 16 year old girls) haven't changed much in the 20 years since I was that age this basically means I am taking to hormonal moody teen girls to buy bras in between sessions of boy trolling.
Do I acknowledge that I know they're trolling for hot dudes? Or do I turn a blind eye?
I am completely over-thinking this entire adventure which only proves one thing: I've officially hit middle age and I've morphed into a dork.
Whatever.
As the girls troll for dudes I'll rock my inner dork while looking for chastity belts amongst the bras. Because I may be a dork but I'm dork accompanying two hormonal teen girls trolling for boys.
This dork ain't stupid.
Bra shopping.
Ya.
If that wasn't bad enough, I promised I'd take them to the largest shopping mall in North America, currently the 12th biggest mall in the world. (According to Wikipedia. And we all know Wiki never lies.)
Because bra shopping in the mecca of North American consumerist excess is the funnest idea EVER!
Add in two teenaged girls, my bad back, and all the punk arsed boys making goo-goo eyes at my gals and today is shaping up to be a fantastic day.
Her version of Blue Steel.
The good news is, when I tear my hair out in frustration with the girls (and you know I will) there will be places I can go to immediately buy new hair. That's the charm of West Edmonton Mall. I can buy fresh sushi from the fish market in China Town and walk across the mall to find new hair. Synthetic, horse and human!
Hair for everyone! Baldness is not an option. Unless of course you want it to be.
I don't really have a point to this post. I'm just trying to work through the horrifying realization that my niece is going to be here any minute, I'm still sitting here in my bathrobe, and I can't get past the memory of what I did at the Big Mall of Consumerism when I was 16 years old.
I trolled for boys.
Since 16 year old girls (and almost 16 year old girls) haven't changed much in the 20 years since I was that age this basically means I am taking to hormonal moody teen girls to buy bras in between sessions of boy trolling.
Do I acknowledge that I know they're trolling for hot dudes? Or do I turn a blind eye?
I am completely over-thinking this entire adventure which only proves one thing: I've officially hit middle age and I've morphed into a dork.
Whatever.
As the girls troll for dudes I'll rock my inner dork while looking for chastity belts amongst the bras. Because I may be a dork but I'm dork accompanying two hormonal teen girls trolling for boys.
This dork ain't stupid.
Double Dork Power