Wellesley has a funny habit of turning retail therapy into a retail addiction, which in turn of course means you need more retail therapy. How else to kick an addiction except with therapy?
I’ve gotten to the point where I know my credit card numbers by heart, can do one click ordering at both Amazon and Victoria’s Secret, and get regular texts from my mom: “STOP SHOPPING!”
Cyber Monday made it all the worse with so many good deals. I also of course belong to Hautelook, Rue la la, Gilt and and various other “member only” special shopping sites.
More often than I care to admit, I’ll call my mom to tell her, “I did something; please don’t be mad.” I’m sure her first thoughts go from, bought a kitten, to dinged the car, to accidental pregnancy, to impromptu Vegas wedding. #Jewishmotherproblems. Usually, the issue is far less extreme. It’s probably that I bought something totally fabulous, that was such a great sale, had free shipping, and I’m sorry Mommy I just had to.
There is just something so satisfying about seeing this pop up on my gmail:
This past week however, it hasn’t been me who’s been buying things. Not only my mother, but my grandmother sent me the most delightful packages. I certainly would never send a “STOP SHOPPING” text, so I’m glad.
In fact, Mom and Grandma fulfilled one of my gift fantasies. They overheard me talking about two things I really really love, but never get as gifts: a popcorn tin and Harry and David pears.
Come holiday and birthday season, I secretly hope on hope that my family, friends or significant other will sneakily surprise me with something they had no idea I wanted. Maybe sneaking on my computer history to see what online window shopping I’ve been doing or look through my catalogues and see what I circle.
Mom and Grandma did me one better and just listened and sent me fantastic “good luck on finals” gifts. I’m almost done with both the popcorn and the pears, but here are pics to see what they looked like when they arrived.
YUM!