5 reasons I hate big classy fashion stores.

1. The moment you enter these stores,  you will most definitely be swept off your feet by a wave of anorexia. Indeed, the salesgirl  wishes “Good Morning” without fail but I can swear on God, it takes me almost 10 minutes to find out where the voice has come from. Thank God for the red lipstick on their pout, I remember reading why some signals are painted red to ensure that they are seen from far away even in a fog, this is science in action. These young girls, I can understand must be profitable to have around, not eating too much while on breaks and saving company money but even the security guard? He had the guts to ask me to deposit my bags with him, implying that he would take good care of it. Tell me, how do I believe a guy who is just as big as my left leg (and I am not even talking about my thighs)!

2. The salesgirl aren’t always pretty to be frank , they are coated with almost 7 layers of compact and foundation and have Hawk like eyes which are coated with Truckloads of Mascara. Is this the image they want young people to follow? Why would their bosses not make it compulsory for the staff to wash their face before entering the store? And yet they have the guts to suggest some anti wrinkle cream to me, “Really good for your tired skin and puffy eyes!” Has she ever studied for a medicine degree? I think this is sheer impudence.

3.  I am not here for the truth, I am here simply because of consumerism. I do not want you following me around and letting me know which dress will hide my belly fat and which will make me look taller. And then when it comes to trying out what I have chosen, there is absolutely no need for you to get me a size bigger than what I have asked for. No, I do not intend to sit down while wearing that denim and yes, I am absolutely comfortable, thank you!

4. And it is not like you people don’t lie, couldn’t you just have said that high heeled shoes hurt! or that those leather boots are never going to loosen up or that all those shoes you had were not for people like me with feet the shape of Africa! So, why is it that ultimately, every time I am the one who looses? MY SELF-IMAGE, THE BONES IN MY FEET AND THE MONEY IN MY WALLET, ALL GONE!

5. Stop giving me the once-over. Stop estimating my monetary value in your mind. That hurts! How do you know, that just because I don’t wear makeup, I am not the queen of Winkyland. I could very well be an Arab Princess on a shopping spree, acting low to not attract attention. I deserve the same courtesy, that lady in the boots with the Chihuahua does!

P.S- These guys in the retail industry are like vampires, thriving on my distaste for them. How and why their business is flourishing I have no idea about, but if you have ever met an Arab Princess with belly fat, please let me know!




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