Friday, 30 January 2015

Shopaholic tendencies

I'm not even ashamed to say it, I'm materialistic. It's not always a negative thing, it's not always shallow and it doesn't always mean someone is a selfish person. I like things. Objects. Something I can run through my fingers or have in my palm, carry on my shoulder or wear on my feet. And what is my downfall? Clothes. 

I spend more than I could ever earn. Usually, it's on ASOS, but that doesn't matter. From brand-spanking new underwear, to this season's new dress, I have to have it. Don't get me wrong, I don't buy to compete, just instead, I like things. This may seem like a really poor defense but I am attempting to justify it. 

There's nothing more satisfying than waiting for a clothes delivery to arrive, with my delivery driver/wannabe friend Russell arrives with my DPD package from ASOS with a big smile on his face and a look in his eyes that is a combination of sheer amusement and intrigue. How can I possibly have this many clothes? He probably thinks to himself. In fact, I think he's said it aloud once or twice, and I've laughed along with him. 

I like dressing up. I'm really boring tbh, evidently I can't even blog properly, and yet I'm now rolling my eyes at myself while I talk about how in love I'll be with my newest order when it arrives at some point tomorrow. The dress that will get vodka spilled down it the first time I wear it when I'm laughing at my friends in Brit on Saturday night. The pair of heels that will burn my feet while I attempt to dance badly in them. The earrings I'll lose in three weeks time because they're too big and heavy to really wear practically. The jeans I buy a size too small as some sort of motivation to exercise and eat healthy, and instead are reserved for thin days, when I somehow can manage to squash into them. The make up I buy and then isn't even preferred to my usual brands. The blouses I really like on arrival and then I end up wearing what I already have, because I don't own anything 'snow-proof' as I keep drowning.

I am better at shopping than I am at anything else, I almost guarantee it. It may not be a talent but it gives me a certain kind of buzz that I'm ashamed to say I love. Similar to writing I guess. Except I get a physical shiny thing out of it. For example, in the past few weeks, I've bought about four new underwear sets, a pair of boots (that I'm actually sending back), a really REALLY tiny pair of skinny jeans I am using as motivation, a sweatshirt that says 'HANGRY' because it is the truest emotion I have ever felt in my life, a Benefit make up set (that is yet to even be dispatched from QVC- oh yes, shopping channels are bad places), a blouse that is so pretty I can't wait to wear, AND THREE MORE ITEMS ARRIVING TOMORROW, that may or may not actually fit/be accepted/take permanent residence in my room. (I'd really like to say wardrobe but it's so full so usually my clothes are wherever they land.) 

If only I could channel my shopping love and my writing love as one. Maybe. Perhaps. I don't even know.

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