As a child I can remember being the "VICTIM" of many embarrassing trips to our local thrift store. It was this old white building filled with junk people wanted to get rid of. I can remember looking over my shoulders to make sure no one from school saw me going in there with my mom, who was practically dragging me by my coat collar because I put up a fight. Everything was out dated and the place smelled horrible. I can remember saying to my mom "Eww this place smells like old people". I have no clue what "old people" smell like lol, but as a child I associated the thrift store with being a place where old people's stuff got donated. I knew my mother couldn't afford the most lavish clothes, but I couldn't wrap my young mind around why it had to be the thrift store of all places. Finally coming to terms with it and attempting to put the best outfits I could together I went through the rest of the school year as normal. I no longer cared about where my clothes came from and just focused on being a kid and having fun. My mom and I ended up moving right before I entered 7th grade which meant I had to make new friends. Unfortunately my "new friends" happened to be judgmental preteens, who made an appoint to openly embarrasses me one day during gym class because of the appearance of my clothes. My little 12 year old heart was crushed, and I went home that day and cried to my mother about how much my so called friends made fun of me. Not wanting to see me that hurt by my classmates again my mom took me shopping at a regular department store the following week for new clothes. That day put an end to my rocky relationship with the thrift store.
