I used to be a world class shopper. I loved wandering the stores, finding hidden treasures, and knowing that I could find the best price for anything, anywhere. My friends loved to shop with me. I walked at the best pace, I was witty and fun, and I always had good advice. Then I got pregnant.
Even before I realized I was pregnant, the shopping talents left me. I spent 25 minutes in the "lady products" aisle with my best friend, trying to remember what brand and size I liked the best. I picked stuff up, I put stuff down. I couldn't remember what I was doing. She suggested that perhaps I wouldn't need any of the stuff, that maybe I was pregnant. I should have believed her. The next nine months were a downward spiral.
I went shopping for baby bottles one day, by myself. Foolish mistake. I could not for the life of me choose a "feeding system". I had no idea there were so many choices to be made! After an entire afternoon of standing there, feeling like an idiot, I went home with no bottles. I finally just took my friend and bought whatever she said I would need.
Towards the end of my pregnancy, my friend pointed out that I had very little baby clothes purchased. Very little. Like one day's worth. I don't know what I thought the kid would wear once we got home, but I couldn't get past the "going home" outfit.
After the baby was born, I waited anxiously for the shopping genes to kick in again. Alas, "pregnancy brain" was replaced by "I-haven't-slept-in-5-days-and-I-smell-like-vomit" brain. I had a schedule now, based on napping and eating and pooping. None of it mine. I was now a Nazi shopper. Get in, get out, and hope you got what you came for. No chatting, no browsing. And don't even suggest to me that we try a different store. My friend stopped shopping with me.
It's 3 years later. I still can't shop. I now have 2 kids in the cart, a list written on my arm, and I still smell like vomit most days. I tried buying underwear recently. Naturally, I couldn't remember what size my ass is, and try as I might, I couldn't see the tag. I finally just grabbed a package that I thought might be my size, in pretty colours other than white-which-will-wash-to-gray, and bought them. When I got home, I opened the package, and pulled out a tiny scrap of material. Yup, they were my size, but they were thongs. I know lots of people say they are oh so comfy, but guess what? At my size and shape, they are NOT attractive. I do NOT need to see my butt cheeks framed by candy coloured floss. The waist band nicely slid into my tummy rolls, the front triangle scoffed at the idea of covering such a vast area, and the string part did exactly what it was designed to do. It crawled up my ass and disappeared.
From now on, I am doing all my shopping from home, on line. That way I don't even need to wear panties, if I can't find any.