Shopping makes my stomach hurt
I just left one of those outlet malls. You know the kind where they have all sorts of designer stores with supposedly good deals. My friends warned me to be careful.
I argued, "You don't understand. I hate shopping." The deals would be so good I wouldn't be able to pass them up, I was told.
I'm not a normal girl. I hate shopping.
I forced myself to go into the stores. One after the other. Yes, some of the deals were pretty good. I could have bought a Coach bag, not a wallet, a real purse, for around $100. OUTRAGEOUS price for a purse but for Coach, that's pretty good, real good. I love purses. I actually had the hundred bucks in my account but I'm not one of those girls who will sacrifice the water bill, or gas money to carry an empty purse. I don't care whose name is on it. Besides, I refuse to crawl in that box. You know the one with all the pretty labels on it. No thanks. I'd rather not fit in.
I fought back wave after wave of nausea. I asked myself with each door I opened, each rack I perused...why? Why was I here? I want for nothing. I have all I truly need.
The answer was to learn; to understand why people came to these kinds of places; to see what the big deal was.
What I learned is I abhor consumerism. Buy, buy, buy, and for what? To fill up our closets with clothes we'll only give away or throw away in 6 months. Is that it? Are we trying to dress the homeless in designer fashion by proxy? Egad, what another nauseating thought.
I did make a purchase...two actually. One based on a semi-need; a universal lid for the skillet I saute my chicken and vegetables in. It holds the steam in better than the pizza pan I've been laying on top; plus it has a knob with which to pick it up. I have to use a pot holder to pick up the pizza pan and sometimes the steam drips all over it and the range top; making a mess, and I don't like messes.
The other purchase, chocolate (actually caramel and pecans covered in chocolate) was based partly on desire mingled with a need for a serotonin rush to alleviate the anxiety attack brought on by my outrage at consumerism.
I argued, "You don't understand. I hate shopping." The deals would be so good I wouldn't be able to pass them up, I was told.
I'm not a normal girl. I hate shopping.
I forced myself to go into the stores. One after the other. Yes, some of the deals were pretty good. I could have bought a Coach bag, not a wallet, a real purse, for around $100. OUTRAGEOUS price for a purse but for Coach, that's pretty good, real good. I love purses. I actually had the hundred bucks in my account but I'm not one of those girls who will sacrifice the water bill, or gas money to carry an empty purse. I don't care whose name is on it. Besides, I refuse to crawl in that box. You know the one with all the pretty labels on it. No thanks. I'd rather not fit in.
I fought back wave after wave of nausea. I asked myself with each door I opened, each rack I perused...why? Why was I here? I want for nothing. I have all I truly need.
The answer was to learn; to understand why people came to these kinds of places; to see what the big deal was.
What I learned is I abhor consumerism. Buy, buy, buy, and for what? To fill up our closets with clothes we'll only give away or throw away in 6 months. Is that it? Are we trying to dress the homeless in designer fashion by proxy? Egad, what another nauseating thought.
I did make a purchase...two actually. One based on a semi-need; a universal lid for the skillet I saute my chicken and vegetables in. It holds the steam in better than the pizza pan I've been laying on top; plus it has a knob with which to pick it up. I have to use a pot holder to pick up the pizza pan and sometimes the steam drips all over it and the range top; making a mess, and I don't like messes.
The other purchase, chocolate (actually caramel and pecans covered in chocolate) was based partly on desire mingled with a need for a serotonin rush to alleviate the anxiety attack brought on by my outrage at consumerism.
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