Photo credit ©iStockphoto.com/Tomaz Levstek
There is a trite bumper sticker that reads, “When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping.” I appreciate the sentiment.
I suppose we all have our little ways of dealing with everyday stressors. Some run, some hit the punching bags, some develop endearing little tics, some drown their sorrows in drink and others smother them in food. And then there are us who shop.
I love shopping under the best of circumstances. I love to run my hands over the fabrics of the luxurious blankets and pillows in home stores. I revel in sniffing the pineapple and manhandling the peaches to find the ripest piece of fruit. I enjoy trying on the highest, most ridiculously dangerous stiletto shoes and tottering across the floor. I positively swoon when I find myself standing in front of the dressing room mirror with a perfect ensemble. And I thrill at handing over my credit card and happily sign my name on the dotted line as I collect my parcels. I smile at everyone, particularly those joyous souls who are also loaded down with various shopping bags. We understand each other.
But when one is engaged in a bit of retail therapy, the rules of the game change.
Normally, shopping is a satisfying experience, done because one wants to spend a pleasant day draining the coffers while in the company of good friends, better coffee and fabulous clothes. Retail therapy, on the other hand, is less about what you buy, but how fast you can do it and how happy it will make you.
This is a busy time of year for me. I’m not complaining, mind you; because I do appreciate those cheques arriving that allow me to continue eating and sleeping indoors. But it can also be a bit of a strain on both my mental health and the magnetic strip on my debit card. After a particularly anxiety-inducing day, I found myself alone in the mall in a shopping fog. Nothing was going to drive away these blues, unless it was that blue sweater that fit me like a dream. And that skirt. Which would look great with those boots! A vest! A hat! Scarf! Pillowspillowcasecordlesstelephonewirelessmouseespressomaker!
I stuffed the shopping bags into the van, and drove to the next store. This is the one where one must pay for the use of a shopping cart. As I deal primarily in plastic, and as I hate the sensation of actually parting with money, I chose instead to carry around an overloaded basket. While standing in the checkout line, I realized how little rationality has to do with my shopping binges when I was asked how many bags I wished to buy. I looked at the heaping mound of food, house wares, candles and a still unidentified object that clearly was going to require both arms to lug out. I took one bag. I didn’t want to overspend.
When I arrived at home, I opened up the bags and looked within. One by one, I pulled out all of my purchases. I looked at the items that I had no recollection of buying. The uneasy feeling that perhaps I had gone too far began to grow within me. I feared that I was suffering the shopoholic’s equivalent of a blackout. Still, I was loathe to return any of the wonders I had brought home with me. I didn’t understand some of them, need any of them, and could ill afford all of them, but they somehow made me feel, strangely, happy.
That is, until I looked at my bank and credit card statement and realized just how much this particular form of stress relief was costing me. Which made my blood pressure skyrocket. Which is how I found myself at the store. Luckily, it was in the snack food aisle. I’ve decided to smother my stress in food.
Madame Fabulous–otherwise known as MadFab (more fab than mad)–has been a professional writer, actor, director, producer, occasional photographer and painter for most of her adult life. Her mother would argue that she’s been a drama queen from the get-go, however. She is a mother to three: Alexa, Theo and Ethan who she blames for the eternal house messiness, the ongoing pantry emptiness, the perpetual head-shaking oddness and the lifelong happiness. She was very recently married to the man who, for the record, she totally pegged as “That Guy” from the start.
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