I’d like to profess that stealing a box of Golden Life Henna in the 7th grade was the end of my illustrious shoplifting career, but if we’re getting down to the short hairs here, I also stole a tube of organic toothpaste from Whole Foods less than a year ago.
$12.95! For toothpaste! I mean, c’mon. Gift with purchase, I like to say.
Actually, I wouldn’t mine stealing something right now.
Christ, it’d be easier than writing this letter. Three years of work down to a page, page and a half. The pressure to be charming here is enormous, you must know.
Maybe this afternoon. When I finish the letter. [O]ur heroine is not that different from me. Or possibly a more fabulous me. The Carrie Bradshaw I am in my imagination.
Upper East Side Jewish American Princess kleptomaniac living the seemingly quintessential Manhattan life, loses job, loses boyfriend, loses housekeeper and winds up (long story short) joining a Peruvian Shoplifting Ring.
It is here our klepto learns what’s truly important in her life. Ahf tsores aside, it’s a happy ending kind of story.
For our 29-year old heroine, shoplifting* is better than orgasms:“… Her breath pounds out in heaves. Her teeth chatter, droplets of sweat trickle down her side sending out a rank perfume, her nipples harden. She swallows a mouthful of saliva, the gulp of it echoing in her head. A quick slide off with a nimble hand and poof…it is gone.”
Please send the enclosed postcard if you’d like to see a sample of The Booster.