Buyer Beware

It’s amazing how not having any disposable income can quickly cure you of a shopping habit.

As a person who never saw a mannequin I didn’t like, I’ve never understood how some people could be happy by just browsing through the aisles.

Window shopping? Where’s the satisfaction in that? I didn’t have an overly active imagination as a child, and that hadn’t changed as I’d gotten older, so I couldn’t actually picture the dress on me if it wasn’t actually on me.

I first knew I had a problem when the salesperson would ask me what occasion the outfit was for. And I’d be stumped, because I didn’t have anywhere to go. I just liked the outfit. And then I felt bad because only people who have nothing to do, and a lot to it with can shop like that.

So I tried to avoid going into the store in the first place, because if I didn’t actually see the item, I wouldn’t know that it existed. If I did go in, I knew in the back of my mind that there were probably two items at home that could work just as well.

In my efforts at self-rehabilitation, I would remind myself that I didn’t go out nearly as much as I wanted to, so what would be the point of yet another outfit?  And (confidentially), being caught dead in the same outfit twice is not as bad as they say it’s supposed to be.

And there would be times, when nice though the item may have been, the price was really too much to pay for it. And I’d be happy to leave it right there. And I’d feel so good about myself. Who knew I would feel so happy about NOT buying something?

At other times, I’d be really taken by something, but would leave the store without purchasing and go home to think about it. If I went back and it was still there, I’d buy it – because it was obviously meant for me. And I thought that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Right?

But besides that minor lapse, and the times when I would just have to take action in order to get some sleep (because thinking about the item kept me awake at night), I succeeding in getting a handle on my addiction.

Since then, I’ve found several cures. They’re called utility bills, school fees, and loan payments.

The economy has forced me onto the road to recovery. And when I do have a little more spending power I pray that I won’t have a relapse.

Because my name is Linda, and I am a shopaholic.

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Am I talking to myself here?

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