I don't know what possessed me to head to the mall today. Ah yes - I was going for a pair of jeans. Still, I probably didn't need to go to the mall for that; should've known better.

Parking as usual was a bane, there were crowds of people leisurely strolling the hallowed halls, kiosk sales girls perkily requested that you try on a new hair piece, play with a new cell phone/computer/hat/sun glasses, and whining children followed their bedraggled parents around. It just wasn't my idea of fun really.

I think I hit maybe six stores when I finally gave up finding that elusive pair of jeans. It was either the extreme low-rider (wouldn't catch me dead in that), some spandex ladden contraption, grandma pants with a waist that sits somewhere under your armpits or a size zero. Yup. Zero. I don't know anyone that wears a zero. Maybe Nicole Ritchie but I don't know her, I can only assume.

It was depressing to walk from store to store and not be able to find a single thing for a 40something that looks hip and actually fits. Add to that that I got a nasty papercut in one of the stores just by checking out a pair (who makes those tags - Gillette??) , summarily bled all over my white sweater (!) and for some crazy reason the elastic in my left sock died a horrible death and the whole thing slipped inside my tennis shoe. It also became evident that I must have stepped into some dog doo in the parking lot. It just wasn't pretty.

I truly felt out of my element. Not that I ever liked going to the mall to begin with but today was just a depressing experience. Being surrounded by beautiful (and quite evidently) rich people, skinny and giggling teenagers in every store and waves of expensive perfume and cologne wafting everywhere... I tell you. It's enough to make you want to slit your throat.

Do men feel the same way when the enter the halls of Abercrombie? Do they secretely compare themselves with the other manicured male Adonis' shopping? Do they avoid the stores sure to be filled with the elite?

I know that I do. I am overcome by feelings of inadequacy whenever I step foot into a Nordstrom, Neiman Marcus or walk by Louis Vuitton. People like me (normal folks, that is) just don't hang out there. And I surely don't feel like torturing myself with oggling a size zero jean that I will never fit into, try on a pair of $3000 boots just for the hell of it or even some dazzling new pair of designer shades. It just feels weird to me.

At any rate, I high tailed it out of there; finger still throbbing from my nasty cut, one sock dispappearing in my shoe and dog poop smell trailing me. I think I will do some leisurely Internet shopping now.

All Hail Al Gore!