Overheard in a Canadian Lululemon

Teenage girl steps out of changing room in slightly muffin-toppy yoga pants. Sullen expression.

Sales clerk: ‘Those run small. Can I get you a size eight?’

Teenage girl (turns into Dark Willow): ‘I am NOT a size eight. My mother (spits with disgust) is a size eight.’

Size Eight Mother (meekly): ‘Maybe just a different style then, honey?’

Onlookers, silently: ‘Say whaaaat? Hey, lady, buy ME some correctly-fitting upscale yoga pants, I won’t even sass you.’