Indelible Snobbery.

I am a snob. Today I had a big day planned. I went to Brentwood mall, because it has an IHOP, and because I wanted to get a jump start on Christmas shopping.

The snobbery didn’t prevent me from accomplishing my goals, it just made me realise how seldom I now go to North Burnaby these days. (Not that everyone from N. Burnaby is in any way like this, Cheesefairy, because I know you’re not, but I think you might know the type of woman I mean.)

For one thing, I actively recoiled when the woman in front of me(who looked like she’d tried to achieve the Tammy Faye Bakker look , circa 1988, for about fifty bucks-including hair frosting and perming, and makeup) in the Ricki’s lineup turned to me and said, “You know teenaged girls, they’ve got receipts all over the floor!” I used to speak to women like this on a regular basis. And never, ever flinch.

First of all, she was frightening for me to behold. Clearly, me and my delicate sensibilities need to get off our butts and out of the West Side more often, because the protective shell I had? Gone. Second of all, she looked like she was about 60. She might have been the girl in question’s grandmother, but she referred to her as her daughter, several times. Thirdly, I am not exactly, ‘A Woman of a Certain Age”, but I really was puzzled for a second when it came to why she would assume I was a mother. Of anyone. Let alone, as she had implied, that my (hypothetical) child was a teenager. Is my hair that frumpy? Then, of course, I realised that as she saw me as a) white (and so, obviously, like her, duh,) and b) over the age of 30, and not in obviously professional attire, in that neck of the woods, I could very likely have a teenaged child. I was creeped out, nonetheless.

I very nearly laid my purchase down on the counter and left. Luckily, I didn’t because it’s a fantastic sweater that (I feel) does not look the least bit maternal.

I hope.

1 Comment to “Indelible Snobbery.”

  1. By cheesefairy, October 31, 2005 @ 10:23 am

    Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Brentwood is especially scary for me because that’s where all the people I went to highschool with are STILL SHOPPING as I type this. I don’t think they’ve gone anywhere, literally.

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