Welcome to Saturday Steals! If you choose to participate this week, write your post and add the link to the list at the end of this post.

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Once upon a time, Poor Kyle and I were not married.

That seems like a lifetime ago. (I’m sure my husband would say the same.) (We are like a couple of old farts and we aren’t even thirty yet.) (But we’re happy.) (For realz.)

Anyway, before we got married, Poor Kyle was rich and frivolous. (Now he’s just poor and frivolous.) (He would argue that he is not poor, but only because he’s in denial. We’re poor.) (I need a job.) (Know anyone who’s hiring?)

So. Pre-marriage. Poor Kyle went with a buddy of his to Las Vegas for a weekend, and while he was there he spent an exorbitant amount of money on a pair of FANCY PANTS Dior™ sunglasses which he really really liked.

Now, one caveat to note is that, for Pre-marriage Poor Kyle, spending $100 on a pair of sunglasses was a steal in itself. His normal, everyday pair of sunglasses cost five times that. As for me, the most I have ever spent on sunglasses (pre-marriage or post or until the day I die for that matter) has been $20. And that was a lot.

Twenty minutes after his big purchase, though, he had his fancy sunglasses resting on the top of his head when he stooped into one of those double-decker tourist buses and bumped his head on a hand bar, inflicting a tiny little ding on the right lens of the sunglasses.

And with that, Poor Kyle deemed them no longer worthy for his patronage. (Snob.)

Five years later, I had married this funny man and bunked up with him. Real classy-like.

In cleaning out the garage last month to make room for George Jettson, I stumbled upon a very fancy-looking pair of sunglasses in an equally-fancy sunglasses case. They were dusty and musty, but really no worse for the wear. Thinking they belonged to one of his ex-girlfriends, I almost smashed them with a monkey wrench from the nearby toolbox, but then I had a thought: WHAT IF THEY LOOKED CUTE ON ME?

I took them inside, dusted off the case, gave the lenses a nice, deep cleaning, and slipped them onto my face.

And I liked them. I mean, was there ever any doubt? They cost one hundred times more than any pair of sunglasses I have ever worn before. I could get used to that.

I liked them a lot. And my fondness for them only increased when I realised they had only ever been worn by Poor Kyle, not by any old hussy he used to date.

Oh, sure, there was still a tiny ding on the right lens of the glasses, but it’s small enough and low enough that if I don’t concentrate too closely on it, I don’t notice it at all. (Anyway, my vision is poor enough that random smudges are really nothing new to my daily line of sight.)

(The next day I took a road trip all by myself and the sunglasses made me feel all sexy-like. Only when I start feeling sexy, the results…well…they aren’t pretty. You can see the outcome here. If you dare. [Watch out, is all I’m sayin’.])

Thanks, Babe. You’re a gem. I married you long before I knew what great sunglasses I would inherit out of the deal, but no doubt it was a great perk for our almost-three-year anniversary.

Even if they are your rejects. They were free (to me).

And I call that a steal.

So now it’s your turn! Give it your best shot.

Ready?

Go!

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