“Confessions of a shopaholic”

by The Flamingo

Many of you, who have seen the movie or have read the book, know exactly what this article is all about. The ones who haven’t will find out soon enough.

I am The Flamingo and I am a shopaholic. There, I said it, it’s not easy to admit it, you know. I am a mild one though, didn’t get into any trouble like Sophie Kinsella’s character. But I am rehabilitated, not by my own will, but by life’s will. Still, I am rehabilitated…somewhat.

The love for shopping came early on, when I was a teen, but not having my own financial resources postponed the development. Later, in my early 20s, when I started earning my own money, that’s when my love for shopping really began. The payday was my favorite day in the month. I had my routine, that after work I hit my favorite stores and then came home heavy on shopping bags and lighter on cash. Well, I do think most women love shopping and most of the shopping is indeed done on paydays. Obviously, I believe it’s a normal behavior, not worrying at all.

…till it happened. The need! Love is love, need is something else altogether. I remember the first time I felt it.

It was a beautiful Friday in June, I was walking down the street happily, because it was that day of the month. The stores were just walking distance from my workplace and as I got closer I realized I was walking quicker than normal. And quicker and with 5 minutes to go I started sprinting. It felt weird, I remember laughing out loud when passing through the threshold of the store. My heart was filled with happiness as I saw the beautiful new collection of dresses, all very nicely hung, arranged by color, with the perfect space between them, just enough to see the style but not enough to see the pattern and so you have to pick each and every one of them up to analyze the details.

Did I need new dresses? No…I didn’t. But that is where the love for shopping comes in, the love for new designs, colors, patterns. 

Did I want to kill the lady who took the beautiful blue dress exactly in my size from under my nose? Yes, I did! A very savage emotion came over me, one in which I thrive whenever I feel it, like a shark when sniffing blood: competition. I watched that lady like a hawk and as she put the dress in its place for a moment to look at the one next to it. I took it right as her hand left the hanger for a millisecond. I remembered the feeling of satisfaction as I held the dress and as I saw the bewilderment in the poor woman’s eyes: “Yes, this is mine now, it doesn’t matter if it doesn’t fit or that I have a suspiciously similar dress in beige, I will buy it and it shall be mine, not yours, mwahahaha”. If I say “my precious” it’s too cliché. I’m too much of a coward to have said it out loud, but the woman got the point.

I collected two other dresses, a blouse and two skirts while thinking, not all of them will fit and I don’t have to buy them all. That’s how I always fool myself. Of course everything did fit, of course I found myself doing calculations in the fitting room, how much would everything cost me and if I could afford it and what would my husband have to say. Luckily my husband was very understanding so that was not the real problem. The money also wasn’t such a big issue, luckily. The real problem was that I was pushing my own boundaries and the happiness I felt, turned into guilt.

I ended up buying everything. From that day there wasn’t a shopping day without the cloud of guilt hanging over my head. I started worrying, questioning myself, what if I had mental issues, why did shopping make me so happy. I was telling myself that is just a hobby and that I deserve all the nice things, because I worked hard and I was a good wife etc. This wasn’t just a monthly thing, it happened once a week. I felt happiness in buying anything, from clothes to food.

This reckless shopping ended when my son came into my life. Other things became more important and I had to care for him 24/7, so my time for shopping was zero. Like any addiction, the lack of contact with the “substance” of abuse is healing somewhat. Well shopping is not like other addictions, because it’s not like you can stop shopping forever. I have to buy things in order to survive. So the times when I do go shopping for food or anything else, I tend to act like a diabetic in a cake shop, craving everything and buying just enough not to go into a hyperglycemic crisis.

So these are, my dear friends, my confessions, the confessions of a mild shopaholic, who tries to better herself, but without losing the ray of sunlight this “hobby” brings to her. 

Photo by Artem Beliaikin @belart84 from Pexels