Purposefully Detached

For the exchange of a mis-fitting gift, our family headed to 'the mall'.  Don't get me wrong, I remember when it was built, and how awe-inspiring it was at the time... and I even worked there for a few months over a decade ago.  So, I am familiar with it's layout and parking lot, etc.  But in the last few years, we've made a very conscious decision to avoid doing business with most national chains and focus on local companies. We've also stopped watching television (yes we have one, we just stream Netflix) so we don't see commercials.  We don't subscribe to magazines, so we don't see advertisements.  We don't get the paper, so we don't have piles of advertisements.  I would say our home has, for the most part, become pretty sheltered from unwanted outside influences.
Upon entering 'the mall', our family paused for a moment just inside those giant, beautiful, doors.  Our senses were overpowered immediately.  The children stood, with mouths open, eyes - wide, utter amazement.  My gut-instinct was to run. I knew we had a goal, but I just wanted to turn on my heels and run back to the car!  Flashing lights, millions of products, loud music, thousands of humans, an immense cloud of a toxic perfume cocktail, signs, and traffic.  We didn't even know where we were going, but we just started moving, at as brisk a pace a family of 6 can traverse through those narrow halls.  We came closer and closer to the toxic perfume cloud and the children covered their faces.  We moved quickly to the escalator.  The kids didn't even know how one worked and were nervous about stepping onto the first stair.  We hitched our ride to the next level, the kids 'ooh-ed and aah-ed' all the way to the second floor.  Dave and I exchanged looks, which we understood to mean 'let's get out of here!'.  A flock of enthusiastic shopping women passed us on their way down the other escalator, and for a split-second, I felt as if I had glimpse of another dimension.  The women all had hands full of bags, filled with purchases from different stores - they were dressed as though they had just walked off a runway, and perhaps took several hours to achieve the perfectly quaffed hair and incredible layers of makeup.  I glanced down at myself - I had showered that day, and combed my hair (that is my daily beauty regimen) - I had on thrifted pants, which had been worn the day before, thrifted shirt, thrifted winter coat, sensible shoes.  I was pushing a stroller, with the most beautiful child in it, and above me on the escalator were my 3 older, beautiful children and their handsome father - all of us, out of our element. We stepped off the escalator (the children quite reluctantly), and made our way to the housewares department. There we were met with pyramids of glassware, small appliances and cutlery - all perfectly neat and tidy, shiny, glowing - and priced as if they were made of solid gold.  The wall of choices for a stand mixer, was staggering - twenty different colors, 3 different sizes, 5 different bowls, every kind of accessory.  I began to feel dizzy.  Dave had done a quick overview and proclaimed the shoes were nowhere in sight, so we consulted a nearby map to find we needed to descend the escalator and make our way back down to the first floor.  Again, through the narrow halls, again through the cloud of perfume, around the center of the store, down another hall, finally seeing the light of open space through a mall exit, past the $130 jeans, priced to sell, at a mere $90.  We found some shoes, after being unenthusiastically greeted by an employee, who was obviously preoccupied chattering away with her co-worker. And now, we were free to go! As we made our escape, back through the circus, I faltered for a moment upon seeing the women working behind the make-up counter. The harshness of their art covering every trace of human skin, got me in the gut, and my eyes welled up with tears.  This place... 'stuff-mart'... is not for me.