Example One: I had a few moments to myself on Saturday, so I indulged myself but catching up on this week’s America’s Next Top Model. (Don’t judge me.) I have nothing in common with any of these contestants, given that they are tall, thin, (almost all) beautiful, and attention seeking – nothing except a fascination for stilettos. Dude! That photo shoot with the gowns and the hotdogs – they had some slamming shoes. So, under the guise of I’m going to go out and run some errands and, yeah, I’ll go ahead and pick up dinner, I grabbed my keys and dashed out of the house.
And ended up at the Shoe Warehouse. As you knew I would.
In my defense, they were waiting for me on the clearance rack, waaaay at the back of the store, and if I were not meant to have them, they wouldn’t have been my size and 30% off, now would they?
And, really, who doesn’t need a new pair of purple patent leather pumps with lovely purple roses on the toes? (Put your hand down, you’re just in denial.)
Behold.
Example Two, Top Chef: Just Desserts. Guilt and sugar-topped sugar confections go hand in hand, so I felt the double whammy of (1) having bought such ridiculously frivolous (but fabulous) footwear, and (2) not making a chocolate cake as I had planned for Sunday dinner.
I lasted through two commercial breaks. The third found me rummaging through my cabinets, hoisting down my trusty Fannie Farmer cookbook, and whipping up a batch of crepes.
Strawberry and Nutella crepes, to be exact. Like my foremother, Eve, I managed to yank Rev off of his Weight Watchers wagon and into temptation as I presented the still-warm, gooey goodness on a plate. The kids could not stop hugging me. Scooby insisted that I should go on a cooking show.
Exaggeration, maybe. But there’s something very glamorous, even sexy, about chocolate, strawberries, and high heeled shoes.
America’s Next Top Chef Model, Mom Edition. I’m so there.
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