What’s the opposite of a shopaholic? A shopping tee-totaller? Because I am that. I hate it. Loathe it. Despise it, even (among other useful synonyms). I feel physically ill after I spend money. It’s bad. I feel guilty after buying anything, even groceries. I feel the same dirty guilt that my celibate Christian friends must feel after masturbating (JESUS IS WATCHING). Sidenote: I’ve often wondered if I’m a closet Catholic, or maybe just sub-consciously Catholic, because I’ve got the guilt thing down. It’s like my superpower, except it’s not very super. I shouldn’t blame this on the Catholics, because, sidebar-sidebar: I wasn’t raised Catholic, I was raised Calvinist, which is possibly worse. Calvinists love to remind everyone that we’re predestined to be pieces of shit, and that it’s somehow our fault for being shitty (even though we were born this way—WHAT?!) and we need to feel really, really shitty because God has to put up with pieces of shit like us. (OMG. THAT WAS SO FREEING TO OPENLY HATE ON THE CALVINISTS).
Anyway, the point of that was that I hate shopping the way bulimics hate food. I’m clearly an anomaly among American females, as every television advertisement ever constantly reminds me. Americans are consumers, and American women are supposed to be the ultimate consumers. Except for me. I’ve probably regretted every purchase I’ve ever made, even if I liked the product. It’s more than just the fear of potentially wasting money, it’s the experience in itself that my introverted self is so reticent of. As I attempted to explain to my dear friend RE recently via text message:
I just hate it. I hate walking around inside large buildings. I hate seeing other human beings. I hate trying on clothes that are too big, or too small, or too lumpy or too glittery. It’s just AWFUL. It makes me want to just sit at home, sobbing and masturbating into an empty wine bottle. (Don’t ask).
All that to say, at the urging of the above friend, I finally went clothes shopping for an interview suit, since my previous interview attire had become un-suitable (har-har)… meaning that my boobs have reached such a monumental size, the only top I could wear was a cardigan which looked sloppy, and the top button was always bursting open at inopportune times. (Before any of you smaller-chested femmes get too peeved, I’d like to note that my midsection has expanded correspondingly with my bra-size and it’s not a pretty sight). Sidenote, again: I feel like I haven’t talked about boobs enough lately. Way too much focus on masturbating.
Anyway, the trip was a success and I found two suits and even an amazingly adorable pencil skirt, all at discount prices, which helped mitigate the guilt. (Ideally, I’ll get one of the jobs I’m interviewing for and I’ll actually feel that the expense was worth it! Maybe!) The best part? I think it was a tie between not getting trapped in the fitting room, not being trampled by crowds of consumers, not spending hours shopping and not spending too much money. And, because lists help me cope with my crippling neuroses, I’ve compiled a list of helpful hints for future shopping expeditions.
Megsie’s Shopping Tips for the Mildly Agoraphobic, Anti-Consumerist, Recovering Calvinist:
1. Shop during the work-day or on Sunday morning to avoid the crowds.
2. Maintain a 10-mile radius distance from all shopping malls during the Holiday season. This isn’t really a shopping tip, more like a general-happiness tip.
3. Before you go shopping, decide exactly how much money you can spend before you will have to engage in self-flagellation for penance.
4. Decide in advance to limit your time shopping to an hour, or less. Even if you don’t find anything you like, leave before you reach Code Red: Total Burn-Out and end up Buying Something You Hate because you feel obligated to Buy Something.
5. Once at the store, power-shop. Judge the clothing harshly, and only grab the items that really appeal to you and are a flattering style. For instance, there are a lot of styles (like EVERY STYLE OFF THE RUNWAY EVER) that look terrible on girls with boobs, or stomachs, or hips, or (God forbid) waists larger than a Twizzler. Just because you saw that top on a model DOES NOT mean you should try it on. Tears will ensue. Know the style that flatters you best.
6. Gather as many items as possible that fit your demanding standards (and do be very demanding) to take to the fitting room at once. Even if the store has a maximum number of garments allowed into the fitting room, they will hold your other selections for you. This way, you’re only going to the fitting room once, rather than making multiple trips through the vast wasteland of Clothes For People Who Look Like Models.
7. When trying on clothes, do not try to squish, squeeze or otherwise mutate your body into anything. Clothes should conform to you, not you to them. If you’re really striking out, consider calling it a day, and at a later time, re-evaluate your personal style. I am nowhere near a 36-24-36, but for some reason I constantly try to fit myself into clothes for that ideal creature. If an item of clothing doesn’t fit and flatter you perfectly, don’t waste your money. (This is the biggest mistake I make every time I shop).
8. Tally up your purchases. If you exceeded your budget, discard the pieces you are least likely to wear. If you came out below your budget, congratulate yourself and then discard the pieces you are least likely to wear anyway.
9. Make your purchase. Try not to vomit when the cashier gives you your total.
10. Go home and eat a cheese stick for dinner because you feel too poor/guilty to go grocery shopping.
Happy shopping… or at least, somewhat less miserable shopping!