I felt really old and out of it yesterday. My 13-year-old daughter asked me to take her and her friends bikini shopping at Crocker Park. She said she wanted me to take them “Because you’re the cool Mom.”
Wow. I was flattered. Of course I’d take the teenbots shopping. It’d be fun!
As soon as we parked, the teenbots bolted for Abercrombie & Fitch… or “A&F” in teenbot speak.
That store stinks! Before you even step inside, you’re assaulted by a wall of cheap, trendy cologne. And once inside, it’s really unbearable.
As I held my nose, and my eyes slowly adjusted to the pitch dark inside the store, I started to see piles of hoodies, tiny sun dresses and brightly colored super short shorts everywhere.
The teenbots scampered. As I frantically searched to find them in the multitude of dark rooms, at least I could enjoy the music. (I gotta admit, they do play good music at the teenbot hot spots.)
They “oohed” and “awed” over tiny little ruffly skirts and super duper skinny jeans. And when they hit the bikini area… they squealed in unison, “OMG, this is so cute!”
I sat in one of the four over-stuffed “Mom Waiting Chairs” in the middle of the store, conveniently located right by the cash registers since they know Mom has to pay for the stuff.
I waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, the gaggle of giggly girls emerged from the dressing room, arms covered in polka dot bikinis and teeny terry cloth gym shorts. “I just got the bikini and this half shirt,” explains my Briarbot.
$90 later, I’m following the pack of teenbots out the door into the bright sunshine and fresh air.
“Let’s go to Menchie’s!” they scream. ”Yea!”
Me, I’d rather go to Bar Louie for a cocktail. Ugh.