Dear Reader,
I'm honest when someone asks me, but this is one time, I thought about telling a fib. After all, it's an opinion she's asking for, right? Who's to say what's right or wrong? Yes, they look good on her, but I knew they would look even better on me. But no matter how I tried to justify it, and believe me I worked all the angles, I just couldn't bring myself to tell her that she shouldn't buy them.
It was no use, I was going to have to tell her the truth--"The shoes look great on you, they're to die for. You'd be crazy not to buy them."
Okay, there, I'd said it. Now I could only hope she'd change her mind--please, oh please, oh please, change your mind. Don't buy those shoes, because I'm in love with them and there isn't another pair on the rack.
Yeah, it's petty, it's silly--after all, they're only shoes. But everybody sinks this low on occasion. Flashlights, houses, shoes--we all have our weak moments, and mine was in the T.J. Maxx store in Manhattan.
One of my business appointments had to reschedule, so I had three hours to shop and I spent 30 minutes of my shopping time following the "how do these shoes look on me" woman around the store.
People carry around "undecided" items all the time, eventually deciding not to buy them. I could only hope for such good fortune. I hid behind racks, pretended to look at purses, when really I was keeping tabs on the woman with the $498.00 dollar shoes--marked down to $25.00--hoping she'd ditch them at the last minute, set them down somewhere before she checked out, and I could swoop in for the shopping spoils.
But apparently this woman loved the shoes as much as I did, and the more she kept filling up her cart with discounted treasures, the deeper "my" shoes were buried--never to be seen by "me" again.
Thanks for reading with me. It's so good to read with friends.
Suzanne Beecher
Suzanne@DearReader.com
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