getting a latte...

(via)

"I'll just pop in for a latte" I thought as I made the left instead of the normal right. 

I was, in fact, showered, clothed and off to work on time. Ya know. The kind of feat deserving of over priced coffee.

In line stood two girls. One wearing skinny jeans, combat boots and thick grey scrunchy socks. The other wearing a paper thin black shirt with a strategically placed black bra.  They carried on "conversation" while waiting to order their Starbucks and flipping through their Facebook apps.  They rocked the red lips and sunglasses indoors look.

"Carrie who are they?"

They are a species so intimidating it sets back even the most confident of women.  Their bible is Vogue and Mary Kate and Ashley are their god. If you're interested, they can be seen walking across Adams and Harbor in small fashionable packs wearing all black and yellow hair. They are the Paul Mitchell girls.

And I've always wanted to be one.

I thought about starting a conversation by pointing out that it was the girls of the 80's who invented the thick sock scrunch look, but decided against it.  Dare I open my mouth and they see how common I am.  And that I'm wearing a floral print.  I didn't even realize I was staring until one of them gave me a look.

It said, "What do you want old lady?" and "You need a make over" all at the same time.

I pressed my lips together forming a polite and eager smile.  Their's is a life so different than mine. One with sparkle and product and meloncholy black.  Maybe I could be their thirty one year old friend. Maybe they could show me the ways of the trendy. And in return I could teach them how to wear clothes you've had for 10 years. I was snapped out of my daydream when one of them began discussing how fat one of their classmates was getting.  My admiration became annoyance.  And then my annoyance quickly turned to rage.  Although I considered a wedgie like consequence due to her peeking tom thong, I chose dramatic and stern eye contact instead. 

And then the two of them ordered Venti Mocha frappacinos with whip cream and chocolate drizzle.  The same two who combined did not equal my current weight.  As I ordered my non fat latte I looked up to the rafters and said, "Why God?"

That's it.