irrelevant to the previous entry

"you know that thing when you see someone cute and he smiles and your heart kind of goes like warm butter sliding down hot toast? Well that's what it's like when I see a store. Only it's better."

Rebecca Bloomwood (Confessions of a Shopaholic) describes stores like the game of relationships.

The fluffles of butterflies while flirting, the exciting chase/hunt after you catch that third party glancing at your thang, muttering "game on" before you lunge at your prey and the last stage, catching "sex-on-legs".

It's the same process when i see that mannequin wearing the most adorable dress i've ever seen.
My heart starts racing as i imagine the days i would wear that dress, twirling around in circles on an autumn day-laughter, warmth and all that jazz
Then i catch that other girl pointing out to a friend- she's got an eye on my target and i am NOT letting her get it before me, not without a fight!

I'm power-walking like i've never walked before, classy-like of course. i can't let her know that i'm desperate...
and i LUNGE at the dress, searching frantically for my size...the race is on and i'm putting it on, i'm checking myself out...and bolt free of the change rooms, card out, arms waving in the air
i've won.

or have i?

Rebecca Bloomwood only mentioned the first half of the deal when it comes to the relationship of Me + Shop
don't get me wrong, i do agree with her...i love shopping...

not just for the fantastic feeling of walking into a room and immediately identifying the store as my new home, as i sit wherever i please, and wear everything that tickles my fancy.

not just for the ignorance and total blank out of others in my 'new house', the realisation that others could have worn what i was wearing, as well as the idea that there are so many more copies that someone else is already wearing outside.

The suspense of disbelief as servants are at your every whim (well, not EVERY whim; ho! ho! ho!); checking up on you, getting those sizes for my ogre feet, pretending not to play detective as to where that awful smell is coming from...

Or the daredevil feeling of undressing in front of mirrors, posing with your new-found clothes as if the mirrors would take photos of you...after checking the mirrors' state in dodgy places, as if every mirror would be a two-way, of course. Not to mention, you're getting naked, just like the next ladies 5 cm away from you.

And weirdly enough, i don't dislike shopping even with the awkward silence as you wait for the desk girls to push through the transaction; i'm only THIS close to owning it, it's right there...in their hands...those hands that take their sweet-ass-time *sigh*...they just don't understand.

But it's for this reason:
You come home, excited about your new babies that are going to make you look ABSOLUTELY gorgeous and feel more refreshed when worn in comparison to your 'old' clothes that used to give you this feeling.
What's even better is the thought of the new explosion of comments on how you look so freekin good - and who better to show than the closest person to you! so you run up to them, give them your cheesiest "guess what" look...

then it goes downhill.
The outfits seem harder to slip on and off all of a sudden, you feel like you've worn it all month, you start to realise all the sweaty, dirty, grimy bodies that may have rubbed all over your slightly-less-shiny-than-in-the-store dress, the price tag appears to have extra digits.
but this is what i find the most annoying...

everything you bought went down from ENDLESS BAGS OF AWESOME PURCHASES
to ONE dress, ONE belt and ONE BLOODY bobby pin.


i hate shopping!

S.O.F (stomping on floor),

P.S.(can you get herpes from wearing tight pants?)

P.P.S. i wasn't serious about the bobby pin being covered in blood...


luvieur said...

lawl @P.S note #uno.

kerplouski said...

i used to think a guy can get you pregnant in clubs, if they masturbated beforehand.
something along the lines of their sweat nourishing the sperm which are being rubbed onto you..
could be the same with herpes...

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