My heart is racing. My palms sweating. I know when to admit that I've got a problem. So let me just say this: I have a problem. In fact, you're my problem. Just when I thought you couldn't be any more perfect, you go and do this to me.
I just saw the children's collection and my heart skipped a beat. Literally. Baby clothes don't often have that effect on me. But this dress just about threw me over the edge. With it's little bloomers and rosettes. How could you be so cruel?
And a bike, Really? Now that's downright mean.
This is where I'm supposed to say "it's not you, it's me." But really, it's not me, it's YOU. With your clean aisles, your well-stocked shelves, the Pizza Hut counter and now with Liberty of London. I don't know if I can stay away. But I know that you're no good for me. You're like my own personal brand of heroin (and yes, that was a bad Twilight reference) Goodbye for now. I hope our paths cross again someday when I can be a little more responsible.
Oh, wait. We're out of deodorant? Maybe one romp down the aisles couldn't hurt...