Buyer's Remorse is Relative

The past couple of months I've spent my Saturdays doing house work--painting, drilling, organizing, cleaning. And of course buying--cabinet knobs, area rugs, candles, and all the other little things that make this place a home.

This is the first weekend we haven't had something we *have* to do.  Granted, we spent two hours Friday night painting the ceiling, but getting it done left today wide open. I decided to commit to self-maintenance for the day, so I went and got a mani/pedi and a brow wax, and bought myself some new underwear, and a pair of earrings.

I immediately felt guilty about the earrings because I didn't really need them. I just wanted them. The underwear were essential, for the record.

It occured to me that I sometimes forget I am a woman (in the emoional sense, the physical reminds me every day), and with that comes the right to spoil myself from time to time. It also occured to me that I have not purchased myself clothing since last July...nor a bag, shoes or other girlie item. I spent $80 on myself today, and feel like I've spent the money that should be feeding my unborn children.

Tonight, we'll spend $200 on a hotel room in the city (this is what happens when you live in the country and want to go to Atlanta) and probably another $200 on food and drinks, and I won't think twice about it.

It's all relative. When I buy something just for me, I feel terribly guilty and wasteful. When I buy something for someone else or the "greater good", I feel great. Why can't I be like those women who throw down $2,000 for a designer bag and not care? Me? I buy a refrigerator.

I did go through a period where I bought myself whatever I wanted for awhile. A closet full of Coach and really cute clothes that are now too small for me is what I have to show for it. I suppose once I had it, I didn't want it anymore and jersey knit, fleece and an all purpose Kate Spade nylon bag became staples of my wardrobe.

On the other hand, that refrigerator is still kickin'.


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