Reclaimed Bitch.

msbitchypants:

Goddamn, you’re fucking bright. What’s the deal with all that lighting? Is is to see your shitty concoctions of fabric that are too darn cheap not to buy? Because honestly, the colors you use could be seen in a fucking black hole.  Better yet, is it to confuse us little shoppers into thinking that that $20 dollar shirt made by a four-year-old Malaysian boy is so high fashion yet so affordable that it’s practically a steal? Well played, sir. 

Forever 21, your blinding white walls and floors make me feel like I’m in a hospital. Is that how you convince me to buy all your multi-colored crap while I weave around stylisly cheap girls who are too heavy-handed with their kohl eyeliner? That I’m dying and should buy a bunch of shabby chic crap to grasp onto my life?

Seriously, Forever 21, how do you do it? I’m 24, but stepping foot into your jam-packed stores of flimsly see-through tunics from Indonesian sweat shops makes me feel like I’m 40. Which makes me want to buy more. If I buy this, I will never get old!! Fuck botox and plastic surgery! Just gimme a pancho and some dangling necklace with an owl pendant! 

Weirdly, your capitalist shit store makes me feel like I’m in some sort of Roman coliseum gladiator battle with a bunch of girls with shaggy bangs. That’s probably because of to the endless array of gladiator sandals, though. Great for the battle that is wandering through those aisles, dodging and weaving around prepubescent screeching girls who are always precisely in my way. Like they have fucking GPS that directs them how to be total annoying twats. Seriously bitch, move it. Or I’ll make sure you’re always be Forever 21. Because you will die. 

Forever 21, if Sears and Urban Outfitters fucked, had a baby and said baby vomited all over those sterile walls and floors, it would be you: sick, a bit unpleasant, but still freaking adorable. 

Forever 21,  don’t get me wrong, bro. I do like you. You offer plus-size clothing, supposedly in some stores, but where the hell do you hide it? Don’t you know this is America? We used to be the land of the free, but now we’re the land of the obese. Supply and demand, bro. I saw another big sister, like moi, wandering aimlessly around your shit store, trying to find your so-called plus line. We looked each other in the eyes, sharing such pain and confusion as to why we were promised affordable, occasionally cute clothes in our size but could not locate them amongst the heaps of size 2s and 4s. Forever 21, I can honestly tell you, I’ve never felt such empathy for a fellow human being. If this store be my deserted island, she’d be my Wilson.

It’s like we walk into a party, expecting to see someone we know, but all we see are a bunch of twats too self-involved to sense that someone wants to get around their bony ass. Forever 21, take note: There is never enough plus-size clothing stores in the world. Please don’t make me go to Hot Topic’s fatter sister Torrid. I grew out of Tripp pants and Nightmare Before Christmas T-shirts before I was fucking born.