I saw the contrast of generations in the grocery store tonight.
Subject A: An elderly woman in her seventies or eighties, dressed in a black, mid-ankle skirt, black pumps, a blue blouse and a powder blue dress jacket. Her hair was silver, styled like a typical grandmother and her face was wrinkled and weathered. She had big gaudy rings and earrings.
Subject B: A teenage girl, probably sixteen or seventeen. She wore clean white tennis shoes, the kind with the thick sole, dark blue jeans, and an interesting powder blue shirt–but I’ll get to the shirt in a minute. Her hair was brown, shoulder length and straight. Her shirt must have been the latest rage. It was high cut, so her orange-tanned stomach poked out beneath the skintight shirt. It was open in the back, and tied at the top. The front somehow managed to be high cut on the bottom and low cut on the top. I swear her breasts were trying to jump out to avoid suffocation. And to top it off it was sparkly.
As I paid for my milk I watched Subject A hobbling over to pick up some grocery bags to take home. As Subject A was hobbling, Subject B was finishing packing her groceries and heading towards the door. Subject B paused in Subject A’s path, and looked back to her boyfriend waiting a moment, oblivious to the fact that she was in Subject A’s path. Subject A didn’t notice for a minute, and then looked up to see a suffocating breasts and a really sparkly shirt. Subject A looked flustered and tried to go right. Subject B realized she was in someone’s way and also moved right, and the two did that awkward little social dance.
At this point the cashier handed me my receipt and I had to go. I couldn’t watch the generational contrast any longer. As I climbed into my truck and pulled away, I watched Subject A being helped to her car by a much younger woman that must have been her daughter. I noticed Subject B was stalled in front of the pop machine, making out with her boyfriend.