Confessions of a Non-Shopaholic

So stereotypically, the majority of women love shopping, right?  The buzz of strolling around the clothes stores, browsing at the brand new collections ‘just in’; the mini catwalk show in the changing rooms, comparing potential new outfits for a Saturday night out, and that satisfied feeling of making that purchase of  that top you’ve had your eye on for a while, and that is now HALF PRICE!!

Maybe there’s something slightly wrong with me, but I can’t think of anything much worse.

Having embarked on a recent (and very necessary) shopping trip, it dawned on me just how much I HATE the whole shopping scene.  From the moment I walk in the door of a clothing department store, all I see is a luminous arrow pointing the other way saying ‘pub’.

Don’t get me wrong.  It’s not that I don’t like clothes.  I make an effort to look presentable each day, and well, they are a necessity, so the clothes are certainly not the problem.  It’s the shenanigans that come with trying to buy a pair of plain black trousers, as I discovered over the last day of my endless clothes rail rampage.

I just wanted a simple pair of black trousers for work.  Nothing with patterns, nothing with funny zips in uncomfortable places, just a plain pair of black trousers.  Obviously I was asking for the earth.  The first three shops I visited didn’t even sell black trousers, unless I was willing to compromise with a pink graffiti type design down one leg with gold sequins.  Hmm, tempting.

I then I found a store who catered to my needs, hooray! The first pair I picked out, not in my size. The second pair, wrong leg length.  The third pair, bingo! So I head off to the changing room to try them out.  After shimmying the curtain rail for about three minutes, trying to close the gap each side so the world can’t see me in my undies, I decide I don’t care if the world sees me in my undies, because I just want a pair of black trousers.  What I didn’t visualise was the child of the lady in the changing room next door pulling my curtain open completely to expose me in a ‘one leg in, one leg out’ pose.  Needless to say, I was not impressed.

After finding I couldn’t even get the trousers done up, I move on to the next store, praying for changing room curtains that close and lack of children.  I spot a whole section of black trousers on a sale rail from the entrance of the shop, and excitedly run over.  The end of my shopping nightmare could be near!  Within the next thirty seconds I find myself  stuck between a lady with a pram blocking the trousers I want to get to casually chatting on her mobile phone, and an obvious ‘sale rail pro’ with half the shop already hanging over her arm, rummaging like a seagull in a bin bag.  Desperate to detach myself from the situation, I leave the store trouser-less, so to speak.

So, did I move on to the next store? No, I followed the luminous sign.

I’m sure shopping can be an exhilarating experience for some, but for me, well let’s just say there’s a lot to be said for Internet shopping.

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