Women are said to be very picky and persistent shoppers; they can spend hours, even days to get the right colors, sizes and models for themselves. Well, I do not belong to that clan of women, not any more. Ever since I embraced my lovely forties, I stopped hitting the malls unless I desperately have to. I get tired so quickly moving from one shop to another or from the fitting room to the counter. I can proudly say I am one of the fastest shoppers and usually I know what I want and never bother finding something better or cheaper once I lay hands on something I like.
When the twins ask me to accompany them to buy sportswear, which they do almost every week, or outfits in City Stars, they know I will not last for more than an hour before I start to complain how tired I am. They know I will soon collapse in the nearest chair and ask them either to buy or to leave. I feel guilty about it every time, but I cannot help it. City stars does hurt me in a way that no other mall does; it leads me to hypertension or some kind of hysteria and the maximum time I am capable of spending there never exceeds a couple of hours which is never enough to buy even a pair of socks.
I was not like that with my older kids; I was younger and more energetic; I could shop for hours and move from one mall to another to find better prices or to compare prices before buying. So, the unlucky twins created a shopping code with me: they would go with their friends first, tour the mall a hundred times and locate the things they want to buy, and then invite me to the final shopping tour, pretending they want to have my opinion when all they want is the money!!
I guess that leads me to be the worst shopper, right? But the whole point of the blog is the best shopper ever, right? Guess who? I won’t leave in suspense till tomorrow. The best shopper ever is my dear husband. You want to know how, well, this I will till you tomorrow.
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