Those that know me well know that I love to shop. In fact...I am a certifiable shopaholic. The only problem is, I don't have that magical tree of wonder that grows money in my back yard.
Although having 2 children has been wonderful for my heart and soul, it has done irreversible damage to my body. Things hang where they shouldn't hang, there are scars in places you would never imagine could scar, and worst of all, my innocent 2 year old asks me daily what the marks all over my tummy are.
I used to be one of those people that obsessively cared what other people thought of me, and frankly, now I just don't give a damn. What I do care about is at least feeling good in what I wear while attempting to have some style.
This one wish (plus a healthy dose of spiking hormones) has caused a catastrophic meltdown on more than one occasion. During these episodes, no shirt, skirt or shoe is safe from being ripped out of its carefully placed spot in my closet and thrown across the room. (childish, I know, but there is no control when those hormones take over)
My ever patient husband sits back and lets me vent, cry, stomp and complain about how "NOTHING in my closet fits anymore" while begging him to take out a new wardrobe fund for me. Then he gives me a hug, tells me I look fine and insists that I go and get what I need.
Now, even though the gesture is sweet, I am smart enough to remember that this still means keeping to a budget (we do have a family after all). So I have become a connoisseur of shopping on a dime. You'll find something for $50 and I'll find it for $20. I carefully inspect every sunday paper for the next deal, coupon and discount. I spend hours sifting through completely demolished sale racks at my favorite stores in the mall until I find what I'm looking for. I stop at nothing to get that new wardrobe at the lowest possible cost, even if that means spending hours in one store (believe me....I have gone into the same dressing room multiple times just to make sure I was nursing "every 3 hours").
This brings me to this weekend. I have the urge (and the need) to shop. My oddly sized body has me not being able to squeeze into my pre-pregnancy clothes, but celebrating being able to ditch some of the sagging post pregnancy outfits that have been collecting into my donate pile. The coming thrill of finding something amazing on sale gets my heart pumping and my debit card swiping fingers tingly.
The hunt is officially on!