As much as I’ve tried desperately to distance myself from womanly stereotypes, I must admit that I have a passionate love for shopping. There is something about getting new things that makes everyday I wear a freshly bought outfit feel like my birthday and Christmas combined. (Of course, on those occasions, I often get a new outfit for the day.)
Any drawback there might be to shopping is completely overshadowed by the sheer joy I get from my purchases. Feet hurt from walking so much? I can sit later. Hungry because I was too excited to stop and eat? I’m not dying. Hair and make-up a huge mess from changing in 1,000 different outfits in the dressing rooms? Just think about how good I will look later.
In the moment when I exchange my cash for those bags filled with goodies, I feel a pang of guilt and then a sense of accomplishment. My money is gone. I do the math and the realize that the $40 sweater I just bought was 5 hours of intense labor. But I do it anyway because the clothes make me look good and they make me feel good.
I budget my money though, Peter lovingly refers to me as a JAP any time I announce the price of an item as though its price is a deciding factor in my purchasing it (and it is). I won’t buy a $80 cardigan from American Eagle no matter how warm and heavy it is. Sure, I sigh and give it an “I’ll miss you” face when I walk out of the store, but I eventually forget. And even though this paragraph is an amazing example of how frugal I am, I like a good shopping spree as much as the girls in Sex and the City.
To shop is to enjoy the fruits of my labor manifested into adorable dresses, super high heels and many many white t-shirts. And I will buy them all, as long as they are reasonably priced.