Why do I do this? I wonder, as I walk through my closet, running my fingers across the tightly packed hanging blouses, sweatshirts and tank tops. I can count at least 10 blouses that I have worn only once, but I cannot fight the feeling of having nothing to wear.
I plop down onto the floor in the middle of my closet, wad my hair up in a bun and rub my temples until the stress of the situation subsides. Surely I have something to wear, I reason as I slowly rise to assess the situation once again. However, while weighing my options, all I can think about are those gorgeous suede knee-high boots on display at Dillard’s for $169. The new long-sleeve boutique blouses, Lucky Brand skinny jeans, dangling silver earrings, leather cross body bags and wool petty coats all gently whisper in my ear, “You need to go shopping.”
I find myself, once again, on the floor — this time laying on my back and staring at the ceiling with my eyes glazed over. What is wrong with me?
My conclusion: I obviously need to go shopping.
I am fully aware that I am falling into the fatal temptation of the materialistic demons, but it is just too late to try to crawl my way out now. My heart is racing with excitement as I log into my online bank account to determine how much destruction I can possibly get away with today.
My max budget is $66, so Dillard’s is obviously out of the question, but I can do some serious damage at TJ Maxx with that amount and still find my favorite brands. I grab my purse and throw on a pair of tight faded blue jeans and an old T-shirt that I got in high school. I tie a worn-out windbreaker around my waist, slip into my Nike tennis shoes and look at myself in the mirror. I laugh out loud, fully cognizant of my ridiculousness. I hop into my little black Altima and head to town.
My oversized $12 Jessica Simpson sunglasses cover most of my face, making me feel glamorous and mysterious, and I can’t help but turn up the radio when “Chainsmokers” comes on my station. I suddenly realize that I obviously need a Starbucks peppermint mocha before I start shopping, so I whip my car into the drive-thru. My endorphins are in full force as I take my first swig and tip the barista a little more than I probably should have.
My budget is now at $60, and I haven’t even made it to TJ Maxx. Before pulling out of Starbucks, I check my face in my rearview mirror and notice how smeared my eyeliner already is and how blotchy my foundation looks. I only left home 45 minutes ago, and my face already looks like a full day of distress.
I obviously need new make-up, so I pull out of Starbucks and head down the street to Sephora, the glorious store of all things beauty. I walk through the doors and am warmly greeted by beautiful full-face make-upped goddesses, and they begin to shower me with eyeliners, mascaras, foundations, eye shimmers, glosses and blushes. My little black shopping basket gets heavier and heavier as I dance through the store with the make-up goddesses, losing track of all time and money. I make my way to the cash register, sure of my responsible investment in beauty, but then I am knocked off of my castle balcony with a total of $123.64. My head feels lighter and lighter as I pass my little plastic card across the counter.
“Will that be all honey?” the lady asks with a charming little smile. “You know, if you spend $25 more you get an extra 15 percent discount.”
I swallow hard and nod. To my surprise, I am able to kindly refuse. As she swipes, my conscience is still eating away at my insides for spending this much money in the first place.
I leave the store with my little bag of make-up, which seemed like much more make-up before I purchased it. With an already busted budget, I decide that it would be pointless to go home now. I place my little plastic card back in my wallet and open up the hidden compartment to retrieve my other little plastic card. Today is a day for the golden card. Feeling empowered, I hop back into my little black Altima, touch up my make-up and head to TJ Maxx.
One of the greatest things about TJ Maxx is the fact that it offers buggies at the door. This luxury just isn’t available at Dillard’s, so I am already pumped about this experience. TJ Maxx offers the same favorite brands that I shop for at Dillard’s but for a fraction of the cost, so my little heart is filling with more joy by the second.
My senses are stimulated every which way I turn as I stroll slowly down the aisles. Pink Michael Kors hand bags, Calvin Klein sweat pants, Columbia pull over sweat shirts, hundreds of name brand blue jeans, Ivanka Trump dress wear, Steve Madden heels, and dear heavens at the Christmas themed throw pillows and blankets that are on display. I load it all in my buggy because I obviously need it all, and I bask in the glorious energy vitalizing the entire store. Hours seem like minutes as I make my way through, loading my buggy higher and higher with treasures. I decide to focus on savings rather than spending. If I save thousands but only spend hundreds, who is really ahead? Money is the root of all evil, so I better get rid of all of mine today.
Suddenly, I receive a voicemail from my husband.
“Hey honey, I just got home from work and noticed that you aren’t here. I hope you didn’t go shopping again this week,” he said in an almost desperate voice. “Call me back and let me know where you are as soon as you get this.”
My heart drops as I rush to the cashier. As she rings me up, I text my husband that I am almost home and begin formulating a story of why I had to run to town.
As I load my bags into my car, I see my reflection in the window. I look at myself for a moment and question my character. Who am I?
I am a young shopaholic, and I do not want help.
— Camerin Hatcher
Four Crossed Logs intern
professional communication major
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