Well, there wasn’t anything wrong, exactly.
I started to explain, “It’s your mirrors,” I said. She looked up at me with a rather annoyed look. “You know. Your mirrors.”
She didn’t say a word. She just stared at me.
For some unknown reason I felt the need to continue…“Stuff looks great here and then I put it on at home and it looks completely different.”
Another long, cold stare. No response at first, then... “Oh. Yeah. Happens a lot,” is all she said.
Happens a lot. Really? What altered states game am I lost in? They know this and admit it?
Apparently, I guess it does happen a lot, especially to me because more times than not, I try on stuff that looks nice, maybe a little bit fun, a little creative, even a little artsy. I look cool in the store. Hip maybe. Okay, hip if I squint and imagine. Then I go home, try it on and look in my mirrors. Oh, no. Uh-uh. What the...?
And back it goes.
Mirrors. Magic mirrors. Ten. Twenty pounds, erased. A couple of inches of height added. I look taller. Leaner.
You know you want it.
How do they do that? And, can I live in this altered state? Please?
She scanned my receipt, refunded my money and didn’t say another word. A computer voice announced. “Cashier number three is available.”
I put the cash in my purse, tucked this big reveal away and wondered if I'm now one of those dreaded too-frequent returners. Yup. I'll admit it. That’s me and now I know why. I'm not only in this game, but probably on some "Returns Watch List" too.
Well boys, two can play this game. Can the mirror come with me?
“Thanks,” is all I can say as I leave.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall..."