I’m a bad woman. Not “bad” as in dangerous, sexy bad (I wish), but “bad” as in – I’m a really lousy girly-girl woman. There are things I just don’t like that I’m apparently supposed to like, and shopping is at the top of the list. I don’t like to shop. I really don’t like to shop in department stores.
The fluorescent lights give me a headache and the smell – dear god, the smell – of the perfume department is enough to practically make my eyes water. I look awful in ANY dressing room mirror, I never pick the right size clothes on the first try (necessitating at least three trips back to said dressing room with distorted mirror), and I frequently stare agape at one price tag or another thinking, “Who in the love of god would pay that for this?” And designer clothes? What’s that about?
Nope. Don’t like it. I like “stuff” shops such as Pottery Barn and Williams Sonoma where I can think, “Oh, wow, what a beautiful, colorful set of hors d’oeuvres plates for that cocktail party that I will never host but where everyone will nibble on asparagus mousse and oyster bruschetta while drinking elegantly-named drinks like Sazerac and Pegu and discussing auteur theory in French New Wave cinema.”
Then I remember that my two-year old will more than likely load the delicately crafted plates with “cwagohs” and “ceweal” or that they will serve as a holding place for the ear plugs that he always manages to find and clutch possessively in one fist – for no apparent reason – while ambling about the room.
So, yeah. Shopping. Not for me. High heels? Don’t get me started. I lurch about like a minotaur if I wear high heels. Pedicures? Hah! Don’t come anywhere near my feet. STEP AWAY FROM THE FEET!
Manicures? Okay, well, I did get a manicure a few years ago for my wedding day (overpriced weddings? don’t get me started). I do admit to having quite nice fingernails when they’re all one length, trimmed and filed, so they did look fabulous after the wedding manicure. But would I ever pay that much money for a manicure on a regular basis? There’s more chance of me actually hosting that cocktail party.
Lest you think I’m totally hopeless, I confess that I do moisturize daily, never leave the house without powder and lipstick (Mac’s Del Rio – outrageously priced), and have been known to use products such as Biore facial strips, henna for my hair, Nivea Visage eye cream and vitamin e oil. So maybe if I can’t actually host a cocktail party, I can attend one. Or at least I can arrange Cheerios and crackers artistically on my porcelain appetizer plates and serve them to my two-year old ear plug aficionado with great aplomb.
Frankly, that sounds better than Sazerac, asparagus mousse and auteur theory any day.
