Well, I did it. I bought the handbag of my dreams. In my defense, the internets insisted that I do it. I had to purchase it from the designer in the end. I am waiting for it to arrive. Every time I think about it I feel a little glow of pleasure flush through me. I feel a little bit guilty and also, a little bit not. I usually have an aversion to spending large amounts of money on myself. This handbag cost more than my wedding dress when I married Beefcake. We didn’t really do a traditional white meringue and matching bridesmaids number.This bag though, it is too beautiful. I was having dreams about it. It is so out of character for me to buy something like this and yet I am okay with it. It helps that Beefcake is okay with it, in fact, he actively encouraged me to splurge.
It is true, I have not been in the best of moods of late. I have been suffering a lot with my pelvis. Chronic pain is very hard. It makes me grumpy. It makes me grumpy that the children think that I am lazy and that they roll their eyes when they are asked to lift or carry something for me. That they moan when they are asked to help out. Then I feel guilty because they are children. They have a right to expect a normal functional mother. I don’t expect them to see that every step that I take hurts, that to stand and cook their meals and to bend to lift a basket full of their washing causes me to wince with the pain. They are just children, egocentric and grouchy little pixies, they are.
So Beefcake knows that I am buying myself a little bit of pain relief, a little bit of happy indulgence. He knows I will treasure it. I don’t feel that guilty about the bag but I do feel guilty about making him feel he has to keep me happy. I don’t want to be the sadsack that he is trying to keep on an even keel. He said to me today that he remembers this time from when Pudding was small. He tells me it was very bad, I was in lots of pain then too but I did get better over time. I don’t remember being pain-free. My brain is not cooperative all of the time. He tells me I will get there again and in the meantime we can all manage. I wonder why he is so nice to me. It must be a bit of a bore to have a foul-tempered invalid for a wife.
I suppose he must love me a bit.
