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I'm Cheating on My Husband With Mr. T

Photograph by Getty Images

My husband let me know he was out of coffee the other morning, so I put on my best sad face and acted like I was put out. But truth be told it was the perfect excuse to go spend quality time with my lover, Mr.T. I could taste the excitement rolling around in my mouth.

"You don't have to go right now, we can go get some later when we go into town."

"No, I will just go now. I'll be right back." My urge came over me faster than my last hot flash. I was looking fab this fine morning and once I had the idea in my head to have some uninterrupted time investing in my insalubrious love affair, there was no going back. I couldn't get there fast enough.

"You are acting weird."

Shit, he knows. I didn't care, I practically slammed the door in his face as I heard the kids breaking out into a fight upstairs.

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I had every intention of making this a quickie. I mean, I am not a total animal who has no self-control. I am capable of walking in there, taking what I need and leaving. I don't have to linger, I don't have to devour every inch. A quick in-and-out will just make me stronger. Nobody has to know. I told myself this visit would be harmless, and I believed it.

Before I knew it, I was there. I think I ran in the door, flushed and ready. It seemed almost more exciting on this day because it was so spur-of-the-moment. You see, my husband may not know about my sick and twisted addiction for Mr. T, but that is no reason to stop something that brings me so much pleasure in about $134. Upon entering, my phone dings, reminding me to check my Cartwheel App; I am immediately turned on, I feel wild, I cannot be tamed.

As I pull into the garage, my husband is waiting for me, arms crossed. ... He can smell Mr. T all over me. I tell him it's over, beg him to forgive me.

After fondling everything in dollar bins, I wrap my hands around a bright red cart as I suck on a very large, strong, caffeinated beverage that is topped with white foamy deliciousness. I am already in too deep. I am a reckless housewife who knows what she wants and how she wants it. I know how to use my Red Card, and I use it well.

As I am headed for the aisle that contains the coffee, I am reminded that I need that extra big box of Cheez-Its because my PMS should be arriving shortly. I grab some really fancy trail mix to chase those tasty nuggets of sunshine with, and before I know it, I accidentally throw some Organic Agave Syrup in my cart. I have been meaning to start baking with that instead of sugar. You know, to offset the trail mix and processed crackers. I have a fast frolic with the wine aisle and stock up on my favorite Red. My excitement is building. I am going to enjoy this threesome later tonight.

I try to be a good girl and make it back to the checkout without wandering eyes, but all the pretty shiny things placed at the end of the aisles are just begging me to be naughty and touch them. Who doesn't need a tiny bowl that will hold 10 grapes? And all the coordinated party favors are a must. I never throw parties with fancy straws and large tissue paper pompoms, but I am going to start. If I am going to be a naughty housewife I might as well be a classy one.

I am a nail polish whore and and go weak in the knees as I gaze at every color of the rainbow. It is a stunning sight and I don't hold back. I grab three of those suckers.

The oversized pouf that catches my eye just as I am about to put an end to this overindulgent nonsense is just begging me to come over and give it a squeeze, which I gladly do. But a squeeze always leads to more, and before I know it, I am sitting on it, gazing at the wall of mirrors; one of which looks amazing with that matching clock, and I decide they are both coming home with me.

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As I pull into the garage, my husband is waiting for me, arms crossed. He sees the overflowing bags. He can smell Mr. T all over me. I tell him it's over, beg him to forgive me. But, Target, you seduce me every time. You make me realize just how easy I really am. You take advantage of me, you tell me what I want to hear, then watch me as I go with my overflowing cart and a smile on my face; I linger in the afterglow, lost in your cheap prices and wide aisles.

We both know I will be back. I need you. Just be sure not to tell my husband.

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