I went shopping.

That might not sound all that monumental but for the past three years I have either been pregnant or not pregnant for very long...this leaves the body looking less awesome than one would desire (unless you are carrying Seal's babies...seriously, what's wrong with Heidi Klum? She's not human! How does a person have four babies and look like that?!?) and it made me not want to shop for anything. Anyways, rather than whine about the state of my body, I spent five-six days a week at the gym for at least an hour for the entire summer. And I still hate my body...but I hate it less and that's what matters--I guess.

I blame my absence from the mall for my mistake of entering American Eagle. Immediately as I strolled in (literally, with my giant double stroller, I wanted to turn around and run away) I realized that I was too old for most of the clothes. But, before I could turn the barge around and get me and the boys safely out of the store, a boy/employee walks up and asks me (slowly, so that I could follow him), "Do you have a smart phone?" When I admitted that yes, I did, he asked, "Do you have Facebook?" (am I Amish?) Again, another yes. "Do you know how to like something on Facebook?" I told him that I did indeed know how to navigate the curious landscape of the easiest social network in the world and he said, "Great! If you like AE on your phone and show the girls at the front you'll get 20% off!"

Typically, this would've just been good news and I would be praising the guy for doing a great job but it was when I heard him just say to a girl after me, "Just like AE on Facebook and you'll get 20% off!" I realized he was WALKING ME THROUGH THE STEPS AS IF I WERE ELDERLY. I banged my stroller from clothing rack to clothing rack attempting to turn the damn thing around, and go somewhere...anywhere, perhaps the nursing home.

* When I first typed the title I accidentally wrote, "Shooping used to be fun" and I cracked myself up for about 2 mins.

They pull you back in again.

I no longer have credit cards. The credit lines are open but the cards have been meticulously cut with my kitchen shears. Slowly, deliberately and painfully I snipped them into hundreds of tiny, unnecessary pieces. Must. Get. Out. Of. Debt.

We've stopped going to the bars, we try to stay in on the weekends prefering to watch stored up episodes of Jeopardy! (you haven't lived until you've watched five episodes in a row. And yes, it goes without saying that I have revealed that I'm an incredible nerd) and movies from Blockbuster.com (the best expense we have in our lives...because we take full advantage of it, we pay about $1 a movie at this point). I do not go to the mall anymore. I live close to this mall, that's right...there are over 365 stores and boutiques! It used to be my life. When I started dating John I would actually stop at KOP (that's what we locals call it), buy an entire new outfit including cute undergarments with no previous history and change in my car before I sped to the city just to take everything off again.

In my more distant past, I owned a retagging gun. I would go to the most expensive stores and buy $300 jeans without a blink of an eye...one pair had gorgeous aquamarine beading at the waist band making a sparkling faux belt. Then I would wash the clothes or dryclean them, retag them and take them back without an ounce of guilt. Poor girls have dreams too. Through the retagging gun, I lived those dreams. Like a junkie, I miss the rush I felt as I swiped my card and went home wth bags full of useless clothing.

Well, it is official. I will have to live in a bunker because designer outlets have come to my small town. That's right kids, within three minutes of my house there is a fix. However, with that being said, I tempted everything and went and checked them out on the opening day...and I came home satiated, I window shopped but purchased nothing...and felt just fine doing so.