Aw, shucks. Someone misses me.
It’s true. I’m missed. It’s one of the most important relationships in my life and I’ve failed to give it the proper attention. Too many obligations. Always thinking of my son. And then one day, a simple something in the mail alerted me to my neglect. It’s sweet, really. Touching.
Oh, Ann Taylor Loft, you sweet thing. I’ve missed you, too. It’s just that I have this 13-month-old son and he so dislikes shopping for me. (And your layout isn’t exactly stroller-friendly, but hey, I’m not making excuses.)
It’s true. I’ve been carousing with the younger set — Carter’s, Gymboree, Children’s Place — but they’re no match for you. I admit I was taken in by their youth, their carefree nature. But they’re fickle, ATL. Love me one day, apathetic the next. I’m so very sorry. I won’t be led astray again. Promise.
But no need to resort to bribery, though I admit, I can be won over with gifts. A whole $20? Why, your generosity astounds me. And valid in-store only? You really do want to see me, don’t you?
Believe me, I don’t want to walk around in sweats, t-shirts, and flipflops. It’s just that no one has nominated me for What Not to Wear (despite my frequent hints). And this stay-at-home mom gig doesn’t pay so well. Oh, I know. You have a rockin’ sale section. I’m totally with you on that.
Don’t dismay, ATL. I’ll be back. Mama loves you, too.