One day a few years ago, on my regularly scheduled trip to Target, I made my regularly scheduled trip to the bathroom in said Target. I don't know about you but there are certain places that just make me have to go to the bathroom. My basement, my garage and quite often, Target. But anyway.
Upon entering, I noticed three girls huddled around the sink. As a mom, my first instinct was to demand to know what they were up to, but I reminded myself that none of these girls are on my mothering list, so...no. As I entered a stall, I did register their general look--mid-teens, a Marilyn Manson t-shirt, jeans cut a little too tight and a lot too low, wacky hair colors with three inches of roots and a whole bunch of visible ratty bra straps.
Sadly, I did kind of judge them by their appearance, then harshly reminded myself that I have known many spectacular girls who presented themselves in a not so spectacular fashion at that age. So, mental hand-slapping on my part.
At the sink I could hear the rustling of paper and some random comments:
"Here, use this part."
"Yeah, it's right here."
"Don't worry, there's more than one."
Then the closing of a stall door and:
"I can't pee."
"Well, don't waste it. Let's go get you something to drink."
"No, she can't drink a lot. It won't work."
"She can drink a little. It'll be okay."
As I washed my hands, the girls packed their paraphernalia into purses and moved towards the door. The last one smiled at me as she held the door open. I thanked her and wondered how many teen aged girls find out they're pregnant in the bathroom of a Target store.
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