"I'm just in the children's department for a while ..." When mothers go shopping
Today I want to do it. I am completely motivated. Will pass the stands with all the small rompers and socks raised head and with disinterest bristling. It will work today, I'm sure.
I start moving. Pass the H & M showcase without paying attention to the sparkling sequin shirts for three-year-olds, even for a fraction of a second. Oh yes, I'm fine. I can do that. And that's easy. I proudly walk past Zara with the stoic of a freshly baked non-smoker who has stripped off his truck five minutes ago. Jahaaa, even Zara. If I have done that, it is official: today it will end differently. I will buy blouses. And bikinis. In size 42. Chacka!
The dream of uncomplicated shopping
I took my leave from Mama today. I have to do that from time to time, otherwise I'll be completely mad in all the madness that children bring with them. And then I usually go shopping first, like today. Respectively: I try it. The thing with the baby pounds is not quite so endured with me and you have to get used to it really first. Again and again I imagine this sublime shopping feeling of the past, this I-have-something-new-and-the-stunning-feeling. When I was a pro for this feeling, but I also fit in jeans, which was not "Shaping" in the cuff. And so I'm always in immaculate lit changing rooms, bouncing desperately into pants that are one size too small, and trying to get used to the fact that my cup size is slowly approaching that of Pam. Without surgery. How nice. But today, today I'll go through this!
After the frustration comes the children's department
At least that's what I thought. After half an hour, I'm back in the children's department. Grab a pair of pantyhose, oh, no matter, I'll take two, in size 104, cuddle with the sweet pajamas in shock, find a heartbreakingly cute flower blouse and put it all over her forearm without a nerve test. Then I remember that all socks have holes and pinch the little ones underpants long ago. Does not work. Do you have to change. That says at least my cerebellum and already go 93.67 to Hennes and Mauritz. Yeah, damn, I went back to H & M and I'm not ashamed. Addiction is addiction. I am innocent.
Why can mothers not think of themselves?
By the way, I am not alone with this strange addiction. Parents are known among advertisers as the most affluent audience. For the smallest, parents buy only the finest. and much. They buy a lot, a lot, so it's not just my XL-thigh frustration, but probably just in the nature of all mothers. Bird mummies strangle worms back up, which they would have liked to digest themselves, lions slaughter the poor gnu for their little ones and we just run with greedy hanging tongue through the children's departments of various fashion houses.
Mom stays mom
Incidentally, anyone who knows the phenomenon can use it for themselves. If you just go shopping again with your own mom, you realize very quickly that the for-the-child-shopping instinct never dies. Suddenly you have a new raincoat, a pam-bra more and two pants with "Shaping" on the cuff. In XL, but mom looks so in love that you just believe her. Of course I'm beautiful, and shaping jeans are great!
The only downside: the mother instinct is not denied even the grandchildren, If it is very bad, you, your mother and you, in the end after all but two in the children's department. And then it gets twice as bad. In this case, really only a champagne breakfast helps. Because alcohol deceives the instincts. And that's really helpful when shopping. Especially when you're on a mom vacation.
