When I was 25, Greg & I got engaged. Before he asked me to marry him, we went ring shopping. I was very specific about the diamond I wanted. I wanted an emerald cut solitaire. It had to be at least 3/4 carats because all my friends had at least 3/4 carats.
He wanted to marry me anyway, and bought me a 1.4 carat emerald cut solitaire. It is a beautiful ring, and still receives compliments -- especially from hopeful young women searching for their perfect ring.
Twenty Five years later, I am done with diamonds. If Greg wants to get me another diamond (he doesn't) I want a a 3 carat pear shaped CZ. Maybe 4 carats. Something gloriously big and loud and fake and cheap. Wait -- not cheap. I don't want it to turn my finger green. Inexpensive. But amazing.
I love fake. I am all about acrylic nails, faux-red hair and someday I will get a nice big set of fake boobs. I want a good leather handbag, but it can be a knockoff. With all due respect to Kate Spade, her designs are stunning, but $500 is too much to pay for a purse.
And $80 is too much to pay for a Christmas tree. But the $35 ones are all gone.
So I got a fake one. With lights. It is FAAAAABULOUS!
If I ever blog about snagging a crazy-expensive handbag, I want you to shoot me. In the head. Mercy shot. Because I've become a shoppingzombie just like all the rest.
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