Self: Meet Diva Self

So, as any of you know, I am pretty much the farthest thing from high maintenance, mostly because I am cheap and lazy.  And cheap and lazy equals haircuts at Great Clips and junky purses from the 90s.    And wrinkled sweaters. 

But even so, there are plenty of medium maintenance people out there who live their perfectly normal and perfectly okay lives with a medium amount of diva.  And by that I mean the regular highlights (which I fall victim to occasionally), and the 40 pairs of shoes and so on.  I consider this a medium and acceptable amount of diva because from time to time I venture into that territory, but then spend weeks with buyer's remorse feeling guilty about my ever-shrinking bank account.

So now that you understand my slightly twisted and nonsensical philosophy on diva-ism, perhaps you will understand the undeniable urge to - just every once in awhile - go off the deep end and act like a celebrity.  Just for, like, 30 minutes.  I had my first brush (and by first, I mean one that is not triggered by abandonment issues following a nasty breakup) with this sort of behavior on Saturday.  Adam and I stopped by the Sunglass Hut for a pair of Oakley sunglasses he wants.  I am not allowed to buy sunglasses more expensive than $10 since mine always end up at the bottom of the lake because I have one reckless bone in my body and it comes alive on water skis.  So I wasn't really even looking in the store - actually I was trying on all the ridiculous throwback 80s styles and marveling at how horrible I looked.  Until.  Oh, my friends... Until.  The red military-inspired Versaces.  *Sigh* The ones I breezed past when we entered the store... their clever placement and glittering details caught my eye.  On a lark I tried them on and, as is common when you try something on for laughs (like my wedding dress, actually), the effect was breathtaking.  Suddenly I'm Charlize Theron on Rodeo Drive and I MUST have these sunglasses which cost over $200. 

After tearing, and I do mean literally tearing, myself away from the store empty handed, we stopped into Macys and then Walgreen's, where I bought an $8 can of almonds to assuage my inner-celebrity who was screaming at me to SPEND SPEND SPEND!

But readers, those sunglasses are still calling to me from their careful perch atop the tallest pedestal in the Sunglass Hut.   My Diva Self will not be silenced by almonds.