from Emily Bryan
"I shop. Therefore, I am."
This is my mother's core philosophy. The pic at the right is of her and my dad on a shopping spree in Juneau a couple years ago. (The chorus line number she's doing means she scored some real bargains. Notice who gets to not only pay for the goodies, but carry the bag as well! Still, Dad looks like a happy camper, doesn't he?) My mom can shop till she drops. Often she has no intended goal. She'll know what she wants when she sees it. Her day is not complete without a visit to her own personal Mecca--Walmart.
However, the shopping gene skipped a generation in my family. Whip me. Beat me. Don't make me shop. Just the thought of wandering aimlessly from store to store without an intended target for acquisition gives me the willies!
This is probably because I'm difficult to fit. My bionic boobs arrived the summer after 5th grade (just when the anorexic super model trend was beginning!). Buttoning a jacket has been an Olympic event for me ever since. Fortunately, my thunder thighs keep me from appearing top-heavy. And don't get me started on my duck feet.
Any woman who wears a W width is nodding in sympathy right now. A few months ago, I went to my local DSW(Designer Shoe Warehouse), hoping to find something flirty and fun. And was led to the tiny little W width section--all of 2 shelves. Honestly, the shoes were so hopelessly geriatric, I asked the clerk if they came with a complimentary walker.
So those are my excuses for being shopophobic, but into every life a little shopping must fall. I was trying to put together some outfits for RT and realized I might end up running around naked a few days unless I hit the mall. So I decided to try the Avenue, a store I'd noticed but never visited.
What fun! Their clothes fit me! There was a raging sale in progress. Every shoe in the shop was a W width shoe! I found a dress that made me feel like Marilyn Monroe in THE 7 YEAR ITCH! (Please notice I said 'feel' like, not 'look' like. My DH should be so lucky!) As I staggered toward the cashier with my treasures, I had an epiphany of sorts.
"This is why my mom shops," I realized. Matching the right shoes with the perfect twinset gives a woman a jolt of endorphins to rival chocolate. I had achieved Shopping Nirvana, that blissful state where you know in your heart you found the right items in the right sizes and colors. And all on sale.
Only cruiseship sex comes close to equaling this thrill.
So when you see me in Orlando next week, I'll be stylin', girls! And after I get my hair done this afternoon, I may have to see if I can achieve Shopping Nirvana again. How else will I know if it was a freak, one-time event?
Perhaps I am carrying a latent shopping gene, after all . . .
Mom would be proud.
Friday, April 17, 2009
from Emily Bryan