10 Ways To Tell You're Not A Young 'Un Anymore

Many years ago, I was at the mall with my sister.

We were entering the literal cave known by mankind as Hollister & Co.,

the oasis that offered hope in a little seagull symbol on those dreaded polo shirts

that were required for our middle school dress code.

Maroon polo shirt = a fate worse than Lord Voldemort's.

Maroon polo shirt with a seagull logo = cute!

Well, we walked in and I breathed in that signature Hollister scent,

the same one that they probably mop their floors with and pour into their clothing dye,

and I let the beats of whatever indie, cool band's (Fall Out Boy) it was, deafen my ear drums.

I turned to my eight-and-a-half-years-older-than-me-sister, and said happily,

"Isn't this just the best place on Earth?"

And her reaction was,

Finally, we have come upon the day in which I admit I was wrong and she was right.

Today, I was at the mall (astonishing, I know);

I walked into the cave and noticed those shirtless male models I used to ogle and swoon over,

and I just thought: how is this not borderline pedophile-esque?

I meandered further into the labyrinth (c'mon, they have the greatest, thinnest, softest V-necks),

and I felt my head start to throb from the music and the stench smell, and from straining my eyes to see in the darkness. 

How is this enjoyable?!

And it hit me:

I'm not a young 'un anymore.

{Despite still not having my drivers' license, and not being legal on most counts...}

Happy Monday, lovies.

Go and conquer the day, like the grown-up you are.

I'll be over here watching the Lizzie McGuire movie and eating Fruit Roll-Ups.