Clandestine Shopping

In my teenage years, my Dad pretty much gave up going to the big city shopping.  He made that my cross to bear while he stayed home and watched sports on TV.

Shopping with my mom was quite the experience.  She attacked shopping in much the same way an army invades a small country.  Even in my youth I could not keep up with her – she literally shopped my socks off practically every Saturday.  Maybe this is the reason my husband is blessed with one of the few women on earth who HATE shopping. I really do hate Wal-Mart and loathe going to the mall. Hmmmm, now I'm understanding why I have few women friends.

I would have loved to stay home and get ready for a Saturday night date, but NO!  Mom had a purpose for me.

After she had laid waste to the retail opportunities afforded by the town of Borger, TX., she would pile all her purchases in the back seat of the car and instruct me to assume the position.

It was my job to take a small pair of nail scissors and carefully cut off all price tags.  After the incriminating evidence had been removed – I would fold, roll, bend, staple and mutilate each item and place them in the smallest possible shopping bag.  It was important for said bag to not look as if it were bulging at the seams.

All tags, receipts, sales tickets, etc. were placed in an envelope that she tucked away in her handbag.

Arriving home, she would breeze through the door with her miniscule bag, sigh and exclaim “I spent all day in Borger and couldn’t find anything that I really couldn’t live without.”  Dad…..hypnotized by the television would murmur his acceptance of this blatant falsehood without batting an eyelash.

As soon as he left the house, we would have a ritualistic burning of tags and receipts and all items would be laundered, ironed and hung in the closet.  Over the course of several weeks, those new items would appear and Dad (ever observant) would say “is that new, I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

And there it would be ……..the opportunity to come clean – purge her conscience and mine, own up to the truth and face the music.  And with the same ease of spirit my sweet mother would say “Oh, Vernie….this old thing?  Why I’ve had this forever.”

My lot was cast, my fate sealed….I was forever a guilty accomplice in the act of clandestine shopping.  Not to mention….bald faced lying!

I miss you mom, I would cut off a million tags to have you to go shopping with again.