I woke up one morning and discovered that I was the guardian (“please stand over there”) of two tween girls. When I had gone to bed the night before, I was the parent of two adorable girl kids but a comet passed over our house at night and left me with two eye-rolling, opinion-having, hair-brushing extraterrestrials who totally cared what they wore to school. In alien monotone voices that somehow still dripped with attitude they said, “Take me to your leader, I mean, the Mall. Yes. Take us to the mall.” What else could I do? I complied upon fear of a disruptor phaser hole disrupting/phasing the torso of my body. My biggest fear had come true, and now we were off to face my second biggest fear…The Mall.
I had spent so much adult lifetime avoiding the mall and all of its mallishness. I was pro-small business and anti-corpor–oh, that is tiring, trying to put my consumer values on paper without sounding like a prick. Let’s just say I wasn’t a fan on sale at Bed Bath & Beyond. I was a fan on clearance at the thrift store, or carefully-saved-up-for and purchased from a local small retailer.
I tried, though, to think of my opinions from before my references were irrelevant and confusing to young people. Back when I dressed like Daria and ran around in a skate gang like the movie Kids. What did I want to do then? Where did I want to be then? The motherflubbing mall.
The only place a small town valley kid could get a Beastie Boys shirt was the motherflubbing mall. At Sam Goody’s. And I was there with my crew of Mormon buddies staging fake fights, flipping through CDs, which were a new thing, and waiting for our moms to pick us up. Well, it’s a new world now and there is no way I’m dropping my tween off at the mall with her buddies, so I guess I have to go too. Maybe they have a Beastie Boys shirt in size old.
Off we went. Did you know there is a Walmart in there? I ran into a person I knew. Should I be embarrassed? Were they embarrassed? I was overthinking this mall thing. What was that smell? FOOD.
Because I am exploring my new role as a pushover, apparently, we went with the taller alien’s suggestion of Chinese Gourmet Express, which was slightly better than just OK. Certainly better than than barftastic and not as good as amazing. Or great. Or good. Plus the older teen behind the counter winked at me. I looked to make sure he wasn’t winking at my taller tween, because I haven’t murdered anyone in a while. Nope. He was winking at the old lady with the wallet. “This kid is going places,” I thought, as I stuffed money into his tip jar. Thus concludes the review portion of this thinly veiled personal experience masked as a review.
Hooray! The Mall! Turns out TJ Maxx is right up my alley. As painful as that revelation is to me, my incredibly cheap sports bra takes all that pain away. Tweens got their school clothes, I got a yoga mat that I will not use for yoga and we all got a bellyfull of slightly better than OK Chinese food.
2.5 out of 5 stars