In Which I Fail as a Girl and Totally Admit That I Cannot Shop

A recent conversation with my friend Jason:

Jason: "Do you want to come with me to Brookwood Mall to take back a shirt?"
Carrie: "Only if you promise that I don't have to shop myself."
Jason: "Why don't you want to shop?"
Carrie: "Because those helper people harrass and intimidate me."
Jason: "They are only there to help!"

So Jason takes me to one of the most expensive stores in the mall, where I proceed to nonchalantly attempt to pick out jeans. I had barely begun to look when I was bombarded with a shaggy-haired, holey-jeaned high school boy asking if I need help. "No, I'm just looking." I don't really think anyone who wasn't mentally disabled would need help looking for clothes. Then I was pounced upon by another shaggy clone upon exiting the dressing room who wanted to know whether or not I was ready to check out. But I wasn't ready to check out. I was still looking. Then I was attacked with the original future abercrombie model in training asking yet again, "Do you need help?"

"NO I am just LOOKING!"

Oh my god.

I was afraid to move on to shirts for fear that I would actually be physically assaulted. So I quickly purchased my two pairs of jeans and bolted for the door, where the words"Bye, have a nice day!" rang in my ears.

I have yet to figure out why I am completely socially retarded. That, combined with my limited knowledge of the fashion world, makes me a pathetic excuse for a girl.

P.S. Another conversation that I overheard in the dressing room:

Whiney Girl: "But these one's just don't fit me right. I definately need to try a zero!"
Boy/Boyfriend: "They look fine!"
Whiney Girl: "No, I definately need to try a zero. And it probably needs to be long. Do you think that zeros come in long?"

So Carrie almost got arrested for bolting through a dressing room door to beat up a tall skinny model changing next to her. Just shut up and wear your one, because honey you could be me in the next stall trying on a five short.