Shopping With A Teenager

Shopping with a teenager can be a very stress inducing experience. Yesterday I found myself in this situation when our daughter demanded to be taken for a shopping post her good performance in examinations. I just could not say no and thus started an odyssey which can only be described as (for want of a better word) chaotic and never ending.

We reached our destination to purchase both both casual and slightly formal attire. One big question staring at us was where to shop—in the kids section or adult section. Our daughter is at that stage in life when sometimes she would find clothes in the children and sometimes the XS size in the adult section would be perfect for her. She refuses to believe that she has almost outgrown the kids section and generally resists going in the adult section to purchase clothes. After much haggling I was finally able to convince her that it would be best to explore the adult section.

As soon as we made our way in the adult section, she picks up a fluorescent yellow top from the counter and tries to convince me that it would be perfect for her. I look at it incredulous but decide to go along in spite of the fact that I can barely stand that ugly looking thing. This was followed by a pair of purple corduroy jeans, red jeggings, blue shorts, one navy blue shiny top and some other equally colorful things.

At this stage I had a fair idea that no way was I going to agree to that truckload of stuff she had picked up randomly over the last half an hour. So I had also started to calculate what to resist and what to agree to.

We finally head to the trial room. Anybody with a teenager daughter would agree that this trial takes eternity. She tried the shiny top first of course. “I think it is too shiny,” she says. “I quite like this. Acha lag raha hai,” I try to convince her. “Hmmm no no. Yeh size theek nahi hai. Mujhe dosra size laa ke do,” she suddenly decides the size is not right. After a brief resistance, I go and get her the desired size. That was tried and out of the blue, “I don’t like this color somehow. It is not looking nice.” By this time I was slightly irritated that we had spent almost half an hour on one dress when the truckload was waiting to be tried. “Fine. Let’s not go for it then,” I was ready to do anything to go on to the next piece of attire. “On second thoughts, it will go well with my red jeans. Let’s take this,” says the daughter. I jumped at it and said, “Good decision. Now let’s go to the next one.”

Finally after much haggling, quibbling and negotiating, the truckload was reduced to half before starting the trialing process. Frankly I had no choice otherwise both the showroom employees and myself would have ended in mental asylum.

It took a long time for this shopping trip to come to an end and I was totally, totally drained by the end of it. But I was happy that I was able to sneak in two-to-three clothes of my choice. Small victory but whatever...