Urban Outfitters=the nail in the coffin.

I've been living in a bubble. A very comfortable, posh, totally cool, and young bubble that everyone wants to hangout in. A couple of days ago some hipster child ran up to my reallyawesomecool bubble and popped it. Popped it HARD! In this bubble, I was young and hip and knew everything about everything that anyone could care to know about that was cool. I was livin' the high and naive life, just like mama taught me! Until this fatal day...I'm having trouble talking about it because I'm still in shock. Let me get to the point already.

A few days ago my bff and I were killing time before going to our lovely jobs (that we only hold because we have to buy the coolest records and Igadgets and glitter) so we decided to stop by the newly opened URBAN OUTFITTERS. I hadn't been to an Urban Outfitters since I was 22 visiting Seattle (I am 29 now...and painfully aware of it) and I thought it was the greatest store that Jesus ever gave a bank loan to. Now, when we arrived I was kind of unkempt (which is cool right???) and in my boring work uniform...didn't think it would play a part in my anxiety-filled visit.

Upon entering the wreckage we were NOT greeted by the little hipster imp at the door. This was my first red flag. He was wearing something that obviously was picked out to make him look like the lowest on the Urban Outfitters totem pole. As soon as we walked in, he looked the other way. I stared. Refusing to move until I was greeted (my tax dollars pay your salary! I think...I don't know how that all works actually...)...well Impy didn't greet us and I was dragged away. I focused way too hard on not being greeted by Impy and watched as he greeted all the other 15 year old giggly girls that walked in. I guess I didn't giggle enough but I SWEAR I was kind of giggling and flipping my hair nonchalantly. I then decided that Impy was not an actual employee of Urban Outfitters...but he wanted to be. He thought if he came in every day wearing vertical stripes, too tight jeans, and a KA-RAZZY ski cap over his fat head and mouthed the words to the Radiohead songs playing over the cool loud speaker...they would eventually hire him. So to him I say, nice initiative, horrible outfit, keep reaching for the stars!

That was only the beginning. I started feeling this lump in my firm stomach when we started browsing the obviously-made-by-someone's-mother jewelery. I needed a moment to take it all in. I have social anxiety anyway so maybe this was just a minor panic attack. I can deal. That's when I looked around...like, REALLY looked around me. Everywhere were children smaller than me, trying really hard to do what I was trying really hard to do 8 years ago (and failing, unlike I did), wearing too tight everything/KA-RAZZY ski caps/funky hair/and mouthing the lyrics to the Radiohead songs being played over the cool loud speaker. What kind of hell had I just stepped into?

Then it happened. The jokes started coming. Everything out of my mouth was a snide comment about some piece of clothing ("Who is this LARGE for? a large baby???") ("I think you just found the 'Mom's Are Cool Too' Section, after Megan told me she found a shirt she liked)...I couldn't be stopped and I was cracking myself up! Then when I made a remark about a SALE price. I realized what had just taken place. I...after years of denial...had finally become my father. "Is that price in American dollars???". "I'm not sure which is the guy's section and which is the girl's". It went on and on.

And then...for the first time in my adult life. I felt old. I felt ancient. I didn't get it. I still don't get it. I knew a few of the songs on the cool loud speaker but I suddenly felt dirty about it. I knew I wanted to buy Tina Fey's new book but it seemed wrong now...and Impy was guarding that section of the store. I watched as more and more tweensters piled into the store grabbing up every over-priced thin piece of cotton to buy and all I could wonder was "did they just buy a dress or a shirt?". It was almost fetal position in a corner time. My breathing became heavier. I considered just giving up and trying to squeeze my fat ass into some jeans and showing those children how it's done...instead, I made a few more jokes about Impy and drug Megan out of the store. She dropped her pallet of 900 shades of glitter eye shadow and we were safely outside.

Outside the store a woman holding a violin case was on her way inside. I told her not to do it. She ignored me. At least she'd be able to express her feelings better than I was...I should start carrying a tiny stringed instrument with me wherever I go.

So here we are. I'm almost 30. I dress like a Target store. And I don't understand kids these days. Where do I go from there? Yelling at kids to get off my lawn? Drinking scotch and watching "Murder She Wrote"? I'm kind of okay with any of those options. Damn you Urban Outfitters...you killed my bubble.