All females like to shop from what I understand. When my co-workers or friends talk about what they just bought I have to answer "Really? Where from? Oh my god that is soooo nice" 75 percent of the time I don't care and want to puke. The other 25 I might like what they have, and wonder if I give them money, will they get me one to so I don't have to go shop. If I won the lottery, like I am about to do because it is up to 42 million, I will hire someone to shop for me.
"Why am I like this, what is wrong with me?" After about 10 minutes of contemplating and one minute of self reflection, I know. I have to of course blame it on my mother. Everything in you life will always be your parents fault. You can of course quote me on this. Go ahead, say it "It's all my parents fault" I learned this during my developmental teenage years watching Donahue, Oprah, and Sally Jesse Raphel. Pretty much back in the 80's, the talk show therapy was to blame it all on another person, be the victim, and take no responsibility for your own actions. Spandex was a socially accepted thing, but so was Michael Jackson, and we all know how that worked out.
Of course, what I am about to tell you below, I cannot take responsibility for, I had no control over and now am scarred for life. I have to blame my mother, or at least my father for making me go with my mother.
My mother would go around to the most boring of stores....fabric stores. I get nauseated even thinking about those places. Yards and yards of fabric, string of every color, patterns and dusty floors with fluorescent lights. They all had elevator music back in the day, and they all smelled the same. She couldn't just go in pick out what she wanted and leave. She is one of those creative minds where they have to look at every pattern, contemplate every color, and after hours....and hours of thinking about it, change their mind and start all over again. This was torture at 6 years old.
She would also visit thrift stores, as money was always tight growing up. Thrift stores for awhile may be cool to a six year old...but after two hours the smell of moth balls goes to your head, and you have hallucinations of running out of the store and running in front of any car..maybe just maybe then you will get your
mothers attention. I never of course did, but this is how I became a day dreamer. I blame this too on my mother. It was a way of escaping places you did not want to be. The fabric store, thrift store, health foods store, that weird ladys house down the street that smelled funny, Waldenbooks, and Aunt Bea's.
I still daydream a lot, especially at work since I don't really want to be there either.
There were times when escapisim could not work, not even my multiple personality disorder:0) There were times when I just had to play like I was...Invisible. My mother belives in making something beautiful out of the most horrendous things. One of her favorite hobbies for awhile was furniture remodeling. Where could you find old furniture? Other peoples trash of course. A few times it was on the way to school. My brother and I would just slope down as far as we could in the seats and just hide. We figured after that, walking to school was a lot less painful.
This is where I wanted to have the superpower of invisibility. I created my invisibility shield and would put it on when walking home past the neighbors dog who wanted me for lunch. I used it everytime I went to a new school, and I still try and use it at work. I tried to use it walking in the front door drunk at 16, I forgot to use the anti alcohol breath spray that all real super heros have, and she must have smelled me walking by, because by god I sure felt invisible that night walking thru the front door tripping... right in front of her.
Let's just say the next say...was not a very good day in history for the Almighty Heidi. Ohh noo it was not:)
That is it for today,
Heidi Ho Ho freggin Ho.