“You go thrift store shopping? That’s so cool. You have to take me!”
I would always hesitate after this exclamation in high school, and it was not from being caught in a lie — I am, indeed, an avid thrifter. The hesitation came from thinking whether or not to respond with, “Yes, of course!” or, “Would you still want to come with me after knowing what it’s really like? Do you enjoy the smell of alcohol that workers use to cover the stench of wreaking clothes, the traffic jam of women over 65 blocking the aisles and the severed heads of dolls and dirty wigs that hang off the racks?