New location; same OLD self indulgent whinery

I had an epiphany.   Of sorts.    Not in a good way.   One of those that make you gasp and suck all of the oxygen out of the room.   One of those that make you just want to walk into a bar and order a double.  

We were at Sea World.   The boys were doing something that was likely to cause nausea in those prone to motion sickness.   So I was wandering from little souvenir shop to little souvenir shop.   And I found a surf-shop-wanna be with clothing and accessories like Volcom and Roxy, you know.    I love wandering through surf shops.   

I found a really cool scarf, and I was looking at it, stretching it out in my hands, feeling the texture, and a voice in my head said, firmly, very firmly and seriously actually, “that scarf is too young for you.”   

Wha?   Or actually:   wtf?    A scarf?    I’ve become used to the idea that certain clothes are too young for me, gradually.    I know that whenever I wear anything tie-dyed, or if I wear denim above my waist, I am simply begging for an intervention.    But a scarf?   

I love to shop consignment stores - where my friends will go with me, and thrift stores - where my friends will not, because I’m still basically sixteen.   I tried on a plaid Billabong shirt in said consignment shop recently while my friend shouted, “No, NO!”    

Living in Southern California only feeds my sickness because overall I think women do dress younger here than in other parts of the country.   But you can still take it too far, I suppose.    Okay, yes, yes you can take it too far.   

And this scarf, even though it was a scarf, was much like the leather corded necklaces with large silver peace signs hanging from them.   I didn’t think I’d be able to pull it off without teenagers pointing and laughing at me.     In fact, the store probably wouldn’t even sell it to me for fear of having to burn the remaining merchandise, because once it walked out of the store with me, it would do irreparable damage to future marketing options of that scarf.   

So I didn’t buy it.    I felt a little somber.    I felt a little sad.    The fruit from this tree of knowledge was indeed bitter.   

And then I found another scarf . . .