Ever wondered what the Alpha's daughter bought when she went shopping? Here's a list of what I got.
FOR MY LOCKER
- Shiny holographic stiff wrapping paper to line the shelves.
- Black metal bookend in the shape of the letter "S."
- A plastic pen holder with a magnet behind it to stick on the inside of the locker door.
- Four magnets shaped like large gummy bears. They looked so real and gummy!
-A stick-on mirror that would fit on the inside of the locker door.
I wanted a rectangular one, but they only had funny shapes, so I took a star-shaped one. It would be a tight fit because the pointy bits stuck out, but Savy said that if it didn't fit, I could give it to her.
FROM SAVY'S FAVORITE SPORTS APPAREL SHOP
I never meant to get anything. But it turned out to be a good sale. After jostling through the crowd and realizing I had to queue with Savy to buy her stuff, I decided I might as well see what I could get.
I'm sorry—I didn't really shop with my heart. That's just not what I do. Everything I bought, I bought with cool, calculated rationality.
Even the locker stuff (although they did look like fun) was for practical use and value for money. I was at the dollar store, after all.
Anyway, with sports apparel, I realized quite quickly that the real money savers came from larger-ticket items. This, and the fact that I didn't want to queue for the changing room, led me to buy:
- A pair of white skateboard sneakers. Even though I didn't skate. But they were 80% off and my size. Plus, they were really unique—they had Velcro fastening. What respectable adult sneaker had Velcro fastening?
Savy didn't like them. "The Velcro is sort of elementary school," she said.
But the design was white with dull gold metal tabs. And I'm the type who's all for life hacks—Velcro over laces any day.
I realize I'm defending my purchases at this store because I hadn't planned to shop here. I didn't even need another pair of shoes. But I bought them. Don't judge me.
- A hooded sweatshirt with matching Capri sweatpants. They were the same price as a single gym jacket on its own.
They were gray, but pale pink on the inside. I didn't wear a lot of pink, but the color made me happy, and I figured that, except for the hood, no one would see it when it was worn inside.
Actually, that's all I bought. Savy pretty much went crazy at the store, and I had to lend her money—and would be paying for anything else we bought after this.
At this point, I had thought we might make an ice cream stop at most. Savy had so many bags, I had to take half of them. It would be impossible to go to another store.
But I was wrong. Savy had to stop at a pharmacy. She wanted—no, needed—this leave-in hair conditioner, or her hair would frizz, and she would just die.
Since it was a matter of life and death, we went into the shop—armed with too many bags to count.
FROM THE PHARMACY
While standing there, waiting for her to decide if she wanted her tried-and-tested conditioner or the new spray version from the same brand, a display for a new range of shampoos and conditioners caught my eye.
I usually didn't buy these things; the generic ones my mum stocked at home were good enough for me never to question them.
But this new range came in the most beautiful plastic pump bottles I'd ever seen. They came in lavender, baby pink, crystal blue, sea green... I studied them very carefully. The pink one had a scent called "Happiness." What the hell did happiness smell like?
So I picked up a bottle of shampoo and the matching conditioner. So expensive. They cost the same as my shoes. I'm not sure if that showed how expensive these bottles were, or how cheap my new shoes were.
But the point was—happiness had a price tag.
I looked at the bottle Savy was now holding. Beautiful curls also had a price tag.
The cost of beauty and happiness wasn't cheap—and they could all be bought in bottles.
I sighed and took out the supplementary credit card my mum gave me, which was NOT for shopping. It was "for emergency use only," but in reality, I had only used it when I helped mum pick things up from Gate City on my way home from school.
But I knew I still had some birthday money from last year in my nightstand drawer. I would return the money to my dad when I got home.
I didn't usually spend a lot of money, except on food... The normal me would have bought the locker stuff from the dollar store and maybe an ice cream sundae—not all the other things.
I don't know what came over me today. Maybe it was a teenager thing? I sighed. Being a teenager was expensive.
By now, it was nearly 5 p.m. We texted my parents that we were heading home. I also texted that we bought stuff on the credit card and would return it when we got back.
Back home, though, my dad said he'd pay for the stuff we bought at the pharmacy. Maybe it was because of the word "pharmacy"—he thought it was something essential. As in, vitamins or actual shampoo. Not like spray-on beautiful curls or lather-on-happiness in fancy plastic bottles.
I tried to explain to him we bought fancy shampoo and conditioner, but he waved it off like it wasn't a big deal. "It's still just shampoo and conditioner," he said.
I wanted to tell him my shampoo and conditioner were the same price as my new shoes, but thought better of it.
After growing up postwar, my dad thought the scentless skin creams in white plastic tubs and colorful liquid hand soaps my mum put at the sinks were part of the "land of plenty" we lived in today.
At least my dad used shampoo.
Beta Lucas still didn't use shampoo or conditioner. Back then, a new bar of soap was a luxury. Soap was for everything. Dry skin was the norm.
But since he wasn't entirely stubborn, and had Mrs Beta, who knew how to buy personal hygiene products, Beta Lucas now used liquid soap.
If we had left household care essentials to the men in my pack, I'm sure we would still be hand-washing all our clothes with that same bar of soap.
Anyway, my mum, who could guess the true cost of the pretty bottles we bought, said, "It's fine, Sam. Your dad said he wants to pay for it, so let him."
So I decided to leave it and let my dad continue his happy existence without the damning knowledge that one could pay a premium for happiness in a bottle of soap.
Mum returned to the kitchen, and I smelled butter and garlic on the pan almost immediately. Dinner was going to be something good.
Savy had long disappeared with all her bags. I took my shopping and pretty bottles upstairs for a quick shower before dinner.
Savy popped by my room just as I dumped the bags on my bed. She dumped an armful of dollar bills on whatever part of the bed the shopping bags were not on.
"Keep the change!" she cackled.
Of course, some of them landed on the floor and under my bed.
"Hey!" I protested.
"They are good for your favorite dollar store," Savy cackled louder as she ran back to her room.
I looked at my bed, covered with shopping bags and crumpled dollar bills. Grrr...
I wanted to ignore it and go try out my new shampoo. But knowing I'd never be able to enjoy it properly with the mess on my bed, I sighed and started picking up all the dollar bills.