My step kids tell me I’m high maintenance.
I’m the first to admit I love designer purses and shoes, and…glittery gems. What girl doesn’t? After all, diamonds are a girls best friend. Who can argue with those six, harmless little words?
Okay, just because I had to have those diamond earrings, a matching necklace and…that blue sapphire and diamond bracelet shouldn’t, in my humble opinion, label me high maintenance. A fashionista? Maybe.
Most of the time, I’m quite thrifty. I love prowling around second-hand shops to save a few bucks and rummaging through musty antique stores hoping to unearth a rare treasure.
And I love to stick my chest out, crow like a rooster, and announce to all who will listen. “I clip coupons and comparison shop.”
I’m addicted to price matching. After circling the specials from the local grocery retailers, I gathered the shopping list, the recycled bags, and barreled out the front door. I was itching to save some moolah.
I arrived at Wal-Mart. The sliding glass doors parted like the Red Sea. I sauntered in and stumbled upon the sweetest silver bracelet. Okay, I headed straight to the jewellery department. An array of dazzling pearls, a heart, a bird, and a Harley wing charm dangling from a tangled mass of metal circles, caught my eye.
“I just have to buy it,” I mumbled, reaching for the ornamental band hanging on the hook.
An annoying voice in my head said, “Tracy! Yesterday you just blew a small fortune on two leather jackets.”
I rolled my eyes. Not again. A tinge of guilt poked at the door of my heart. Ouch, maybe my step kids are right.
I shoved aside the irritating noise and twirled the jewellery rack round, and round, and round. Where it would stop no one could know. If the spinning wheel stops in front of me, it might be fate?
The rack squeaked and halted in front of my nose. I scanned the aisles on either side of me, confident the shoppers bustling passed didn’t notice the wily grin that spread across my cheeks.
A magnetic force lured me in. I plucked the bracelet off the rack, slipped it on my wrist, stretched out my arm, and admired it. The pain in my chest ballooned.
“Huh?” I whirled around and then realized the pesky voice was insisting I resist temptation. My head flopped forward and my chin smacked my chest. Ever so slowly, I stretched the jangling clump off my wrist and placed it back on the stand. The nagging pain subsided.
I turned down my bottom lip and sulked all the way home. That was last week.
This week I shaved $13.56 off the grocery bill. And guess what? After taxes, the price of the bracelet rang in at precisely that amount. A spark of light flashed before my eye and I knew the shiny, newfangled trinket was meant just for me.
So what if it spawns a green band around my wrist.