My form of addiction comes to me in Fit and Flare dresses and vintage earrings. SHOES.
Shoes too. I love shoes....and necklaces. I adore them as well.
BUT. I have a theory for my addiction, an excuse if you will.
You see, I am in a relationship with myself. And as I am in a relationship with myself, all of my attention and extra effort should go to me. (I feel I am a genius over my thinking.)
Unfortunately I am neither rich nor morally adept to the selling my vagina/ oral skills for shoe money.
Shame that.
I love the feel of different fabrics. If I like what you are wearing I will complement you. If I love what you are wearing I will approach you like a skittish gazelle and slowly reach my hand out and announce "May I touch?" to uncomfortable smiles and reluctant nods of agreement.
Whatever, I got my fix.
This morning I snuck out of my house before the church crowd but after 2 cups of strongly brewed coffee. My plan was to have some "ME" time. To browse a few stores, touch some fabrics and smell some purses.
You know, normal stuff.
The first store I walked through was a new one in my area. I walked through it clutching my purse to my chest and wrinkling my nose. It was icky, but I don't really care. I will buy clothing from the corner crack head if the merchandise is well crafted and interesting.
I walked out unfulfilled.
I next went to "window shop" at the shoe store, which housed a very helpful lady who brought boxes upon boxes of beautiful shoes for me to touch or shake my head at until I gasped and flung my left shoe off in order to try the new ones on.
My shoe landed in another box. I was impressed at myself, and smiled as my foot made sweet love to the 'shoe of perfection.'
"Oh my." The lady whispered staring off at my old shoe.
"Mine." I replied, slipping my new shoe off and replacing it back into the box with the utmost care and concern.
I left the shoe place quite happy indeed and sang to my new shoes in the car.
My next stop was the thrift store. I LOVE Thrift stores. I don't give a damn.
I find the most awesome interesting, is it ugly? is it cute? ....things in those stores.
I also find vintage earrings there.
I wheeled my squeaky carriage up to the glass counter and peer into it quite seriously.
"Can I help you?" An older lady asks from behind the counter.
"Yes, may I see those?" I point to an interesting pair of clip on earrings. "and these, also these....and.....Those as well."
I leave the store with 2 treasures.
The next store I enter, perhaps I never should have.
Then again....I believe it was meant to be.
FLASHBACK TIME.
Picture it.
It was Christmas time and my fellow Buhachians were gathered around a table at Brooks Ranch opening our Secret Santa gifts and wondering where the alcohol was. That is when it happened.
Tanya peeled back the paper of her gift and pulled out a beautiful purse.
I gasped.
My fingers flew to my mouth and I whined "THAT is supposed to be MINE!"
It was.
I knew it was. My heart knew it was, even my vagina did.
It was a Betsey Johnson Soft pink with a beautiful black bow. Oh! How I wanted to run across the table like a monkey, fling poop in her face and run off with the purse while screaming out simian grunts at everyone's shocked faces.
I could see it all happen.
I moaned and Brandee patted my hand.
"Miiiiiiiiiiine." I wailed as quiet as I could. "NO. That is not yours." Juan stated and I skinnied up my eyes at him and mentally kicked him in his no no spot.
I growled at him and crossed my arms.
My life was ruined. The end.
END OF FLASHBACK
Today I walked into D.D's and I was greeted as I tucked my car keys away. "Goodmorning!" I replied, and then.....I looked up.
This time, I didn't take the time to gasp. Instead I RAN while yelling "MINEEEEEEE." and hand slapping invisible purse snatchers.
I pulled it down and clutched it to my chest. "Mine." I told the security guard as I lifted the purse to my nose and rubbed the outside.
He raised his eyebrow and replied "Apparently." before turning and walking away.
"ARRRRRGGGG!" I screamed in victory, performed a flawless fist pump and then as a safety precaution, hissed at everyone in the general area before walking back to an empty isle and confirming with Jana (The original purse purchaser) that this was INDEED my purse.
After becoming secure in the knowledge that I did INDEED have the purse that has been searched for since December I placed it in my cart and went to peruse the clothing.
2 hours later I arrived at home and peeked in the door. "Emmaaaaa." I called out.
"Yeeeees." She answered with a smile.
"I think something happened." I whined through the small door space.
She stared at the door and I pushed it open. "WHY did you let me go shopping without you?" I demanded and plonked down my treasures.
"Ohhhhh Mamaaaaa." Emma whispered.
"This is all your fault you know."
(my behavior was a standard guilty wife move. I learned it after 13 years of marriage. When you feel like you did something wrong, turn that shit around and blame the husband for a random and confusing act that doesn't make any sense. If you are any kind of wife, you will receive an apology for your act.....Works every time. except on daughters.)
"Mine!!??"
"Well. It certainly isn't MINE." I sat down on my couch. "But know what?"
"What." Emma sat on the arm of the couch and smiled at me.
"I got treasures!" I whispered. Smiling at my hoard.
"I can see that you did."
"Don't JUDGE me Emma! I Neeeeeeeeeeeded these treasures! A ton of my clothes need to be put on the *retirement rack!" I crossed my arms and felt guilty. "Now I feel guilty." I stated the obvious
"Why do you feel guilty?" Shane came into the room.
My eyes lit up "Look at my treasures Shane!" and I waved my hand over the boxes and bags that Karma was snuffing into.
"I see them! And you deserve them, so do NOT feel guilty." Shane smiled at me.
"See Emma, why cant you be nice like Shane?" I teased her and she laughed and growled back "I didn't even SAY anything."
"I know. Sorry. old habits and all that." I replied and then I pulled out my purse. Emma ooohed and ahhhed with me over it and Shane even fake complimented it.
A little bit later I sat my purse on the bed and sighed while I stroked its beautiful pink quilted hearts.
Guilt, once again, started to creep back in.
I had two choices here. ONE of which was to return my treasures.....
The other was pressing my nose against the purse and inhaling another hit of my drug of choice.
Once I was properly sated on Betsey Johnson, I headed back to my closet to make come cuts.
* retirement rack:
is a rack of clothing that holds various items that I no longer am interested in.
Once I am no longer interested in an item, if in good working condition, I place it on the "Retirement rack" where it stays until It catches my eye once again. I just pulled a pair of pants down that were from '99 and I quite love them.
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