Thirty Pennies For My Thoughts

Today, I bought mascara from CVS.  You can already tell this is going to be a fantastic story, can't you?  Well, long story short, they overcharged me.  Not by a couple dollars, but by a couple cents.  Thirty cents, to be exact.  So, naturally, I was a little irked.  Irked, though I was, I was not ticked enough to go back to wait in a line of five people to get to the counter and say, "I want my thirty cents back."  But in the back of my head, I heard my mother's voice telling me, "Nureen, you worked hard for that money.  It's their mistake, not yours.  Why let them get away with that?  Every penny counts."  It drove me nuts.  I wanted to go back in the line simply out of principle, but something was holding me back.  Highland Park was holding me back. 

I looked around me and was terrified that the rich Highland Park mothers would think I was crazy.  Well, I was - not for wanting to get my money back, but for being concerned with what they thought of me.  So what if a student that I will (likely) never see, again, thinks I am stingy.  What if it had been two dollars?  I wanted to go back because of mere principle and I didn't.  I didn't because I was afraid.  As I walked down the street back to my dorm, I felt myself becoming more and more upset.  Over thirty cents?!  No, with myself for not feeling I could stand up for something.  For being afraid of being judged.  Since when was I that person?  The person that is the prototype of anything and everything that walks the Earth.  The person that feels pride in being one's clone.  The person that strives to blend with their surroundings.  That is not me.  That won't be me.  Next time, I won't freak out because Highland Park Mommy is tapping her Pradas at me.  Next time, I'll stand in that line and get my money back if I want to.  Because "I do what I want."