Let's Party!... Not!

Recently, I was invited to a "party" at my neighbor's house.  And the minute the invitation was placed in my hand, I knew I would not go.  But I took it anyway.  I smiled and listened to the details; the time, the date.   I looked through the pamphlet at all the deliciousness for sale and nodded my head at the appropriate times trying to keep up with her enthusiasm, leaving her, I'm sure, with the idea that I might attend. 

I should have been straight with her.  I should have told her right then.  But I didn't.  And when I saw her name on my phone screen the day before the party, I didn't even answer.  Coward that I am, I just sent it to voice mail. 

You see, I have a problem.  I simply do not go to "parties," which demand require that I purchase something.  

I don't like being forced to buy something I don't need and/or don't really want.  I don't want to sit on someone's couch flipping through the glossy pages of some catalog, hoping to find something that I can use, or at the very least, that's not too expensive.  And I don't want to sit through The Spiel:  The Host describing how her products are simply better than any of the others on the market.  And  how buying said products from my friend, (right now!) will put her well on her way to becoming the next in a long line of Independent Consultants.  How her family will reap financial freedom simply by hosting three parties a month!  And how,  I too, could have all this and more (what's more than financial freedom?) if I just signed up (right now!) to host my own party.  (Not that my husband wouldn't love it if I could bring in a little cash from time to time.)

So I don't go.  Yet, still, I get invited.  As a matter-of-fact, I have a friend who has been begging me to "host" one of her jewelry parties for over a year.  And with the exception of my wedding ring, and the occasional pair of earrings,  I don't even wear jewelry!  I realize these hostesses don't really care if I am there or not.  I am simply another body, another potential customer.  Another name to add to the list, thereby improving their chances of having a good turnout, a good sale. 

Does my choice not to attend make me a snob?  I hope not.  But just so we all understand my rejection isn't personal, let me explain. 

Just because I am not shopping from you, doesn't mean I am secretly shopping elsewhere.  I'm simply NOT a shopper.  It's not something I like to do.  Unlike many girls,   I don't rely on "retail therapy" to get me through a funk.  I'm not a clothes horse, a shoe addict.    Heck, I don't even buy the everyday things I need until I'm in DIRE need of them.  I have a few staples in my closet that I wear over AND OVER AND OVER.  I only stop wearing them when they become old enough to get transferred to the "clothes for yard work"  shelf.  

So I avoid The Mall.  Unless it's Christmas, or one of my kid's birthday, I rarely go.  And I NEVER  wander the stores aimlessly, just to browse.   If I'm actually taking the time to go to The Mall, I know what I want.  I get in.  I get out.  I always feel bad for those old men sleeping  waiting in the over sized massage chairs while their wives stroll, without a thought of their husbands' comfort,  through Sears and JC Penney.  I don't know how they even fall asleep under that horrible fluorescent lighting and constant chatter from the pesky girls asking to straighten my hair, or trim my eyebrows--with string!? (Not that I don't need both of those done on a regular basis, but....ew!  Where have those strings been!)

This declaration does not, in any way, mean to imply that my family goes without.  Because, believe me, they DO NOT.  Especially BIG.  She has PLENTY of clothes, shoes, handbags.  And she has jewelry spilling out of bowls, glasses and boxes.  Little, too, despite being less interested in clothing at this point, has bookshelves SO FULL of books, they have begun to appear in stacks on her bedroom floor.  Or in boxes she dragged up from the basement (to keep things neat, Mom).  Or piled high on her night stand and window sill. I do not, however, shop for my husband.  Over the years, I have tried.  And I have failed.  Because the man is six foot six.  He weighs 190 pounds.  And, simply put, he has to try things on, because returning things to the mall is about as much fun as shopping in the first place.  

So, there you have it.  In today's consumer driven capitalistic society, I am a freak.  Right?

Wrong!

I said I don't like going to The Mall.
I said I don't like buying clothes.
I said I don't like people telling me what to buy.
I did not say, I never buy anything.   There are a few frivolous items I spend money on.  In completely random order, here are a few of my necessary evils.

Although I have a perfectly good coffee pot sitting on my kitchen counter AND a working espresso machine hiding in my pantry, I buy overpriced coffee.  Sometimes twice a day!  (Oh the shame!)  And despite the electronic age that I am living in (and typing on) I still buy books.  The old fashioned ones; with the pictures on the cover, the pages made of paper, and the photo of the author in the back.  And I buy plenty of books for my kids.  As demonstrated above, I should own stock in The Scholastic Book Company and Barnes and Noble.  (My husband,  the Family Gadget Guy, has advanced in this department ahead of the rest of us.)

And I buy shampoo.  Yes!  Shampoo!  The expensive kind.  I know, go figure.  But this is a new development.  And while this goes against every fiber of my being, (or at least everything my dad ever taught me about spending) a few months ago, my hairdresser had me try a new shampoo and I "fell in love" with it.  And I don't "fall in love" with things often.  But this shampoo, has helped my poor old itchy scalp like no other shampoo has.  And I have tried them all.  While I could easily give a glowing report on this product,  (this is neither the time or place) suffice it to say, if I could find a shampoo that performs as well in a cheaper bottle, I would be in heaven.  But I have not.  So, I simply shell out the bucks, and justify my spending by looking inside my closet.  Now, if I could just get my teenager to keep her mitts off it!  

Finally, I buy flowers.  I love container gardening.  I love putting different plants together to see how they look.  I love watering them, tending to them.  Recently I saw a sign that read, "I love gardening because it always brings a promise of tomorrow."  I loved that! While I don't need don't need candles, jewelry or prepackaged dips in my pantry, I do need tomorrow.  Or at least the promise of tomorrow.  I need to know that I'm going to wake up, get a goodbye kiss from my husband and see my daughter off to school.  I need to know that I'll be able to go for a run, or ride my bike.  That I can dig in my garden.  Or, drink a cup of coffee while tapping away on the computer, or reading a good book.  Because these are the things that make me happy.  

So, to all of my friends who have invited me to candle parties, jewelry parties, and Mary Kay Make-Overs, I'm sorry I couldn't didn't make it.  More importantly, I'm sorry I didn't just tell you up front that I wouldn't come.   I didn't want to hurt your feelings.  But if you ever decide to throw a coffee, book, or gardening party, I'll be there with bells on!

xoxo-
Sonja