$$$$$$$ and shopping and such.

When I was 22, I purchased my first coat.

No, not the first coat I ever had, silly. I'm talking about the first coat I ever purchased myself, by myself, for myself, with my own money.

I remember this coat. I wanted it so badly. I found it at the Burlington Coat Factory. It was a full length John Weitz men's coat. It was soft. It was also $200.

I don't know how much a coat should cost. I suppose a coat is like a t-shirt. There are $4 shirts and $100 shirts, and how much you pay is how much you can afford. So some readers might be confused as to why a $200 coat is such an issue for a pre-school teacher earning $14,000 a year. But let me tell you, it WAS.

But I saw this coat, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I thought about it all the time. I visited it more than once. And then, finally, I went ahead and made the purchase.

Almost before I left the store I broke out in a sweat. My heart was beating so fast I could hardly believe it. In the car, on the way home, I was shaking. I actually made myself physically ill because I had just spent so much on something to wear.

And this was my very first case of buyers remorse.

Oh, I loved that coat. I wore it to shreds. I still have it, but I can't wear it because my arm keeps going through the holes in the lining instead of the sleeve. I kept that coat and wore it the way I use all of my things. I buy things and I use them until they fall apart on me.

And I rarely buy things. Not too long ago Lillian watched the boys for me while I went shopping, and I got some really nice, and a few expensive and not entirely needed, things. AS well as some shorts that won't fall off and let the world see what color my underwear is. And after that spree I felt not a bit of guilt. No shakes. Nothing but glee at my wardrobe's new additions.

But then, last week, I went to the eye doctor. My eyes are fine. But the doctor suggested I use my eyeglass benefit to get some sunglasses. I hadn't thought about this. And I have never actually purchased sunglasses before. But suddenly it seemed like a good idea. And after trying on frame after frame, the sales guy Andy Dick look alike handing me pair after pair, I finally picked of a pair of huge glasses, the frames painted in a geometric pattern.

And the Andy Dick guy suddenly fell silent. Then he said, very quietly, "Those are a very stylish pair of glasses." Which I think was his way of saying "Not for you. You can't pull those off."

Of course I got them.

Guess what? It could have also been the drops from the eye exam, but I got the headache. I got the shakes. I got the remorse.

I'll let you know how I feel once I've picked up the glasses.