Barcode Blues

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I. Hate. Shopping.

There, I said it. Out loud. For Jimmy Choo to hear.

The notion of personal fashion and process of finding clothes that fit for an affordable price sends my blood pressure up at least 50 points, and that’s before I even set foot in a store.

My feet are wide, my torso is long and my legs are short, but not quite short enough for the petite label. Petite too short, regular too long. Button up shirts are a big “no” because I’m built more like a running back than a runway model.

If only I could wear a steady stream of yoga pants, jeans, converse and brightly-colored V-neck t-shirts to work, I would. Proudly. However, this vicious shopping cycle repeats itself over and over in 10 familiar steps and always results in a case of the barcode blues.

Step 1 – I tell myself I am about to go shopping because I need (elusive item)

I will tell myself for about two months that I need (elusive item). Do I actually go? No. I find ways to occupy my every minute by telling myself that I’m working during the day, making dinner at night and spending every waking weekend moment with my kids. The truth? I’m in my 4th REM cycle by 9pm on a Friday night after binge watching three episodes of Dawson’s Creek. Rinse, repeat this step until (elusive item) literally falls apart and I REALLY do need to go shopping.

Step 2 – Go to the nearest stores

I head to the local mall. I give myself a time limit. 1 hour. I convince myself it’s because I work better under pressure but in reality that is the maximum time allowed before my head literally explodes from frustration.

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The mall looks like your friend…but it’s not.

Step 3 – Grab every single sale item in my size

My sense of frugality is located on my 17th chromosome along with the gene for thick, frizzy hair (thanks, mom).

Step 4 – Head to the dressing room

I am robust in all the wrong places and, apparently, the same size can vary by at least 63 inches in length or width. I pooch and pucker in places I never knew existed. I also have the same to recurring thoughts: (1) Can any woman really wear a button down shirt without unveiling her bra and (2) Why aren’t all women’s pants made like men’s pants? Someone, please tell me because I feel like this is the 8th mystery of the world.

Step 5 – Pick one thing about of the whole pile I like

I can’t leave with just one thing. That’s a waste of time. Head to full priced racks.

Step 6 – Find a few things I like, repeat step 4

Except I reject anything that says “line dry” or “hand wash.” I now have a whopping two things I like.

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Line dry? Ain’t nobody got time for that…

Step 7 – Head to the register

But not before I browse a few more spots for (elusive item). At this point I slightly resemble a golfer trying to find a lost ball in the rough as I gingerly ensure that every square inch of the store does not contain my perfect (elusive item).

Step 8 – Get frustrated

My time has been spent searching and I only have two things to show for it.

Step 9 – Reinspect the two whopping items I have purchased

Upon further inspection I realize that one or both of them says hand wash or line dry. Sigh.

Step 10 – Leave defeated and frustrated knowing that when I get to the pearly gates, I will never get this hour back

The only thing I am willing to purchase on this trip is a KitKat bar. And that fits me perfectly.

kit kat
KitKat, you always fit me perfectly…and I love you for that.

Someone tell me, how do I stop this vicious cycle of barcode blues??

1 COMMENT

  1. shopping is awful, what is even worse is when you get the item home and immediately get a stain on it or it gets snagged or frayed in some way and you have to start all over agai

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