Stepping out into the fresh air, sun shining down on me, what a beautiful day.  Leaving work always gives me a rejuvenation of energy.  Walking around to my 2012 Nissan Rouge, thinking about how happy I am to have finally bought a “new to me” car, I hop in and start it, plugging in my phone to play some music.  I throw the vehicle in reverse and head away from the hair salon, on my way to pick up my son, I decide to stop at Shoppers and pick up a few things.  Walking towards Shoppers, loving the confidence I am feeling in my new outfit.  Feeling on top of the world because I am finally moving towards my goals in life.

I enter Shoppers and decide to go look at the make up, there’s two girls standing at the end of the aisle talking to each other.  They’re dressed in the “scene” or “emo” trend, skinny jeans, vans, colourful hair mixed in with black hair, thick black winged out eyeliner and piercings.  It makes me think back to when I dressed like that, so many fond memories with my elementary friends, and I smile.  But then they look over at me and I feel as though they think I am a “mean girl”, which probably makes them feel like they’re being judged, and then I stumble on my high heel.  They laugh at me and it hurts my feelings, I am no different from them, I was just like them once upon a time.  Now I feel insecure, and in my embarrassment, I walk away with swirling thoughts of my past, reminding myself of where I am from.

 Remembering never being bought new clothing until I started working, never going on trips with my family when so many of my other classmates did.  I’m not from a rich family, we were never even middle class, and thinking about how hard I have worked to someday move myself up classes.  The thoughts were swirling in my head of how I became pregnant right after graduation and getting fired from my job, to then not be hired by every job I applied for because I was pregnant.  Babysitting the children of a family friend so I could pay my rent till I had my son, then in his first twelve months I was on social assistance.  Finally, when my son was a year old, I got a job, and started making monthly payments to my mom so I could have her car, then moved into Regina housing.  I was so proud of myself, but after almost two years I decided making minimum wage wasn’t going to be good enough for us, I needed education.  Once I was accepted into school to be a hairstylist, I worked my butt off to graduate, get a good job, build clientele, start to improve my wardrobe (image is important in my field of work), and buy a new car.  Two years into the trade and I noticed it would be hard on my body, so once again I made a step to improve mine and my son’s life, I enrolled into the Education program at the University of Regina to hopefully move myself from being working class to middle class someday.    

The pharmacist says my prescription is ready, snapping me back to reality.  The confidence I had felt coming into Shoppers now dwindled, I no longer knew how to feel.  I had worked so hard to better my life, only to end up feeling disassociated from people I once would have gotten along with by stumbling on my shoe.