My Drug of Choice
For any of you that know me, really know me, you are well aware of the fact that I enjoy shopping for clothes. Hmmm, maybe "enjoy" is an understatement. Let me rephrase that: I enjoy shopping for clothes like an old virgin guy would enjoy a one-night stand with a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. Did that get the point across, or just repulse you, the readers? Okay, what I'm trying to get across is that I love shopping for clothes, and then wearing the clothes that I've shopped for.
Here's the thing:
For those of you who have only met me since I've been married, well, the above statement may have come as a shock to you. (I'm referring to the part about me loving to shop, not the part about the lonesome guy enjoying a bang from a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. That's a shock to no one, I'm sure). See, that sad thing is, since my marriage to a money-conscious CPA, I've become what can only be referred to as "consumer-ly retentive". Maybe a more politically correct term would be “shopping-ly challenged”. So now, if I get loose enough to drop some dough, I have to conjure up explanations for my spending that will pass AICPA auditing standards. In addition to frequent shopping audits, I have two more obstacles in the way of me and a pleasurable shopping experience…
Cody and Colton.
From about age two to six, I had four blissful years when Cody and Colton would come along and shop with me. Not only would they shop with me, they would offer fashion advice about what I was trying on. Comments like, “Mom, that makes your butt look lumpy,” or “That’s pretty.” And really, that’s all any woman needs to know when she’s shopping, whether she looks lumpy or pretty. Yes, Cody and Colton were my own little Carson Kressleys. Then one day it all changed.
Here's the thing:
For those of you who have only met me since I've been married, well, the above statement may have come as a shock to you. (I'm referring to the part about me loving to shop, not the part about the lonesome guy enjoying a bang from a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader. That's a shock to no one, I'm sure). See, that sad thing is, since my marriage to a money-conscious CPA, I've become what can only be referred to as "consumer-ly retentive". Maybe a more politically correct term would be “shopping-ly challenged”. So now, if I get loose enough to drop some dough, I have to conjure up explanations for my spending that will pass AICPA auditing standards. In addition to frequent shopping audits, I have two more obstacles in the way of me and a pleasurable shopping experience…
Cody and Colton.
From about age two to six, I had four blissful years when Cody and Colton would come along and shop with me. Not only would they shop with me, they would offer fashion advice about what I was trying on. Comments like, “Mom, that makes your butt look lumpy,” or “That’s pretty.” And really, that’s all any woman needs to know when she’s shopping, whether she looks lumpy or pretty. Yes, Cody and Colton were my own little Carson Kressleys. Then one day it all changed.
One day, Cody and Colton decided they hated shopping. Cody and Colton now hate shopping almost as much as I hate those spoiled little bitches on My Super Sweet Sixteen. If I channeled my hate for those children into something productive, there would be no world starvation. Yes, I hate those kids that bad.
Since Cody and Colton have a newfound hate of shopping, anytime I want to go I either have to do it without them, which never happens, or endure ten minutes of Inferno-grade whaling. I say ten minutes because that is the maximum amount of time I can spend in a clothing store with them before they start behaving as if they are ridden with the plague. That’s about enough time for me to find a pair of shoes and put one of them half-way on my foot. But I recently figured out a way to change all of that. I figured out a way to win when it comes to my shopping challenges, here it is:
I enter a store with Cody and Colton (who have just by entering a clothing store already begun the process of mentally melting), find all the clothes I want to try on…and get this—instead of trying on all the clothes, I BUY THEM! Yes, I buy them all without trying them on. Insane, isn't it? Yesterday I bought almost $400.00 worth.
Since Cody and Colton have a newfound hate of shopping, anytime I want to go I either have to do it without them, which never happens, or endure ten minutes of Inferno-grade whaling. I say ten minutes because that is the maximum amount of time I can spend in a clothing store with them before they start behaving as if they are ridden with the plague. That’s about enough time for me to find a pair of shoes and put one of them half-way on my foot. But I recently figured out a way to change all of that. I figured out a way to win when it comes to my shopping challenges, here it is:
I enter a store with Cody and Colton (who have just by entering a clothing store already begun the process of mentally melting), find all the clothes I want to try on…and get this—instead of trying on all the clothes, I BUY THEM! Yes, I buy them all without trying them on. Insane, isn't it? Yesterday I bought almost $400.00 worth.
I know what you’re all thinking, you’re all thinking, “But Charise, this shopping madness isn’t going to fly in the face of Mr. Dollars and Cents CPA Guy!” I know that. Here’s the part where it gets good. I take all the clothes home, try them on while Cody and Colton are stewing their brains with video games, and then whatever makes my butt look lumpy—I return! That way, Mr. Dollars and Cents CPA Guy gets mad only for a second when he sees the money go out of the bank account, but shortly after, most of the money comes back home and his blood pressure returns to normal.
I’m a genius, aren’t I? The sales people don’t really like me much anymore though. You should see their faces when I come back the next day to return eight pairs of jeans. When I tell them that I just didn’t like the clothes, they look at me as if I had just told them that I had tainted every article of clothing with the hanta virus and any moment we're all going to die...or something. Doesn’t matter because in then end, I win. I get my clothes, the boys don’t have to suffer burning purgatory, and Mr. Dollars and Cents CPA Guy doesn’t feel so financially reamed.
My only worry now is, what happens when the day comes that I buy a sick amount of clothes, bring them home, and love them all?
What happens then?
What happens then?
I’m a genius, aren’t I? The sales people don’t really like me much anymore though. You should see their faces when I come back the next day to return eight pairs of jeans. When I tell them that I just didn’t like the clothes, they look at me as if I had just told them that I had tainted every article of clothing with the hanta virus and any moment we're all going to die...or something. Doesn’t matter because in then end, I win. I get my clothes, the boys don’t have to suffer burning purgatory, and Mr. Dollars and Cents CPA Guy doesn’t feel so financially reamed.
My only worry now is, what happens when the day comes that I buy a sick amount of clothes, bring them home, and love them all?
What happens then?
What happens then?
posted by Anonymous @ 9:22 PM
4 Comments:
Well, that's the equivalent of a junky finding the best dime bag ever. It's a good day.
I loved this blog, especially since I remember what shopping with C&C was like sometimes.
My oh My!!!! You had me totally laughing out loud backstage here (Dallas)!
"And really, that’s all any woman needs to know when she’s shopping, whether she looks lumpy or pretty."
So, they have outgrown shopping eh? Here's another strategy for you ... we meet in Palm Springs... the boys and I hike or hang at the pool... while you (and perhaps other shoppy sisters) go shopping! Huh? Huh? Yeah?
Brilliant bit sister! Brilliant!
I'm liking that idea - especially the part about Palm Springs
I like that idea, cept I hate shopping so I'd opt to take the boys hiking with Michi!
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