The ADDiva (Almost) Wears Prada
I’m not a fashionista. You won’t find designer clothes in my closet or expensive handbags on my arm. They are too costly for my practical ADHD brain. So a pair of Prada shoes was the last thing I expected to live in my closet. It started with a kidney stone on Victor’s birthday (Victor is […]
I’m not a fashionista. You won’t find designer clothes in my closet or expensive handbags on my arm. They are too costly for my practical ADHD brain. So a pair of Prada shoes was the last thing I expected to live in my closet.
It started with a kidney stone on Victor’s birthday (Victor is my adorable and adoring husband). He has problems with those nasty things every 10 years or so, and he was overdue. But to suffer on his birthday was unfair. Two days later, I was in an ambulance heading to Duke University Medical Center with a kidney stone of my own – are they contagious? – and had emergency surgery. I got home a couple of days later, just in time for our anniversary. We were “stoned ” together on the family room sofa, moaning, but not in ecstasy. My birthday was two days later. (Yes, we cram all our important occasions into one short week!)
In all the medical chaos, Victor had no time to buy me a birthday card. He’s a pretty creative guy, so he pulled out a sheet of copy paper and made a personal card for me. On the outside, it read, “To Linda Roggli: The Love of My Life.” (Awww. He’s such a sweetie.) Inside there were two stick figures, one wearing a tux, one wearing a wedding dress: Victor and I.
Always alert to detail (he’s not ADHD, by the way), he drew curly hair on my likeness and wild hair on his. (He does have a stubborn cowlick.) He drew in his kidney stone and my stent, the aftermath of surgery. On his feet, he drew clunky shoes that were labeled “Rockport” and on mine were “Pradas.” “I don’t own a pair of Prada shoes!” I protested. “Well, those are the only shoes I know that are expensive,” he replied.
I loved the card. With Victor’s permission, I shared it with a small group of ADHD women gathered at my retreat house. They loved it, too. We decided to meet again the next day, and one woman brought a bag of goodies. She pulled out a book underlined with meaningful passages, gifting it to a woman who was thrilled with it. She offered a special CD to another woman. She handed me a bag and I pulled out…a Prada shoebox!
For once in my life, I was speechless. Are you kidding me? Someone was giving me a pair of Prada shoes? I couldn’t believe my eyes! And the gift came with a twist that only we of the ADHD persuasion can appreciate.
The woman with the goody bag was decluttering her house. She had spent hours sorting through her books and CDs to find the perfect gift for the other women in the group. And she had a pair of Prada shoes in her closet.
“I bought them online at the last minute because I needed shoes to wear to a party,” she explained. “I wore them once, and they’ve been in my closet for the last four years. Now they can live in your closet for four years until you get ready to declutter!”
I couldn’t stop laughing. An ADHD woman decluttered her closet, and I ended up with a pair of Pradas. Granted, they are a size too small for me and I don’t have an outfit that works with them, but I will never give up those shoes. They are the precious reminder of the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the ADHD mind. Prada shoes? Now Victor’s portrait is accurate!