Walmart whale and the buggy blues It's 1:whatever AM and the bf and I decide on a wally world adventure, which was cut short by a bitter garbage barge and her bullshit "policy" that I have found no supporting evidence of. I have been drinking and am scuffling around in bf's pajamas, so I hop in the cart (Im <5ft, <100lb, this is not unusual for me.) so I don't ruin the bottom of his pantlegs. Stockers are out and about, no problems, no one says anything, until we have the misfortune of encountering Miss Triple-Wide.  Now, I'm not dicking around or anything, I'm just sitting quietly, cross-legged in this basket, waiting for dear bf to find whatever it is he's looking for.   Suddenly, the ground shakes and I hear a flab-muffled "ma'am." I know what's coming. I pretend not to hear it. Bf pretends not to hear it and turns an aisle away.  The tremors get stronger and it pours into my peripheral vision- "ma'am". It's unhappy now. "You have to get out of the buggy. Youre too old. It's our policy"  I, being nonconfrontational, bite my tongue and hop out, muttering some obscenities. My buzz is instantly killed, and I really wish I (or bf) would have said something, or at least speed-walked away.  I weigh less than this dumpster's second breakfast and wear a Childrens'  M/L. The only tell at this moment of my age is that I carry a purse and it's 1:xx in the morning. But it was SO horribly important to this beast that I not ride in the "buggy" that it huffed after us to make sure I got out. At least we left it with the cart, so it can huff and puff its way to the front of the store to return it (not that it actually did, I'm sure. Probably left it for a useful employee to get). I'm not surprised the only one with an issue with tiny-girl in a cart is the only one whose left leg couldn't fit into the basket if it tried.