No, not all women love shopping for clothes
A woman walking with colorful shopping bags in the mall.
I was looking for something to wear the other day when I came across a pair of jeans and a top I last wore more than 15 years ago. Once in a while, I go through my wardrobe and weed out clothes I haven’t worn in months, put them in a bag, and give them to someone who will appreciate them.
But there are those clothes that one tends to be attached to, and no matter how persistently common sense tells you to give them away because you will never fit into them again, you convince yourself that one fine day you will go back to size 8, and when you do, that outfit will be right there, waiting to welcome you back.
That is the kind of unrealistic optimism I have with this pair of jeans and that top which once showed off my then perfect collar bones, and so, once again, I folded the clothes of my youth and tucked them somewhere in a corner, telling myself that I’ll wear them again…
As you can tell, my relationship with clothes is somewhat complicated, I am afraid that I am also one of those women who complain of having nothing to wear yet at that moment, I will be standing right in front of a wardrobe full of clothes staring back at me.
As you can imagine, most mornings, for me, are the most stressful time of the day, and by the time I settle on what to wear, I will have tried more than four sets of clothes, a sweaty, flustering and time-wasting process.
Mind you, I will have mentally chosen what I plan to wear the previous evening, but come morning, will have changed my mind, resulting in the circus I just described.
Complicated relationship
But this complicated relationship does not end here. I also have a tendency to buy clothes but thereafter, decide that I don’t like them, meaning that I only get to wear them once or never at all.
I am also quite choosy when it comes to clothes, and those who know me well rarely agree to go shopping with me because from experience, they know that we might just emerge with nothing, not even a handkerchief, even after hours of walking and searching and sifting and trying. But when I get something that I actually like, I will wear it to submission, and will only let it go, reluctantly, when it begins to show signs of wear and tear.
After all that self-disclosure, you must have deduced that it comes as no surprise that I hate shopping – no, not all women live to shop, that’s a stereotype.
I once read somewhere that the poorest man in the world is the one without a dream, well, I keep saying that when I finally get that kind of money, the first thing I will do, after employing a chef, is to get myself a personal shopper, someone that will do all the sweaty legwork for me and all I will have to do is try on the clothes chosen with care for me, from the comfort of my bedroom, thank you very much, not those crammed windowless cubicles in stalls and stores.
