Friday, October 13, 2006


I used to love shopping. Love, love, loved it. Nothing better than a trip to the city and shop, shop, shop. But now you know it. You’ve heard me say enough times about the ‘dreaded trip to town’ and how I hate shopping. So who ruined my shopping trips?

No, it wasn’t Hub. All he did was shrug and say, “What? More shoes?” But he didn’t pursue the matter further. So who ruined my love of shopping? Was it rude clerks? It well could have been, but it wasn’t. Was it poor quality for too much money? It could have been that as well, but it wasn’t.

My shopping joys were ruined by some philosophical fool who had nothing more to do than think, and think he did. And after thinking and thinking, he explained in some silly exposé, the adrenaline rush of shopping. A detailed explanation of the reasons shopping provides such joy and instant gratification. A discussion of how the sense of power (while standing at the counter and laying down cash or that reliable bit of plastic) makes one want to buy the best and flaunt the rest. He discussed how a special momentary indulgence makes one feel important and envied enough to want to repeat it frequently. And he outlined how all of it fits into the category of ‘addiction’. That was the pin that burst my power balloon. And so, to get it back, that comforting and powerful feeling of being in charge, I had to prove to myself that he was wrong – that I could easily ‘quit’.

Although his explanations were annoying, I had to admit they made sense. But it wasn’t enough that he took one of my ultimate pleasures and spun it into cold technicalities. With all that time to think, he went even farther. In the end, he prompted me to define what I admire most in others. And to my surprise it had nothing to do with grand apparel or furnishings.

So that was the bloody Dork that ruined for all time my shopping pleasure.

And right now, waiting in the galley, are others from that same tribe of Dorks that want to change my remaining pleasures into cold technicalities – my wild imagination, romantic notions, pumped up nostalgia, simple contentment, uncomplicated life, and other fixations. I don’t want these ‘addictions’ stripped and torn into component parts.

I don’t want technical and rational explanations that remove the magic and make everything part of a cold swamp and a Big Bang Theory. These pleasures I want to keep just as they are.


Anonymous Esther said...

Oh, how true this is...and it seems we have all been taken with the idea that anything that we love or indulge in too much, becomes a 12 step program...hmmm...Shoes Anonymous?

12:17 PM  
Blogger Roberta said...

Hi esther, nice to hear from you. Does make one wonder who decides these things. Can't imagine any 12-step programs for anyone who is addicted to a love of spinach, housework, cooking, or charity, instead of shopping, napping, etc.(???)

3:01 PM  
Blogger I Said said...

What? No pats on the head for helping out the economy by putting funds and taxes back into the system?

That right there should tell you that you're doing the right thing.

susan @ spinning

5:59 AM  
Blogger Roberta said...

Hi Susan, thanks for those words of encouragement. I hate shopping anymore so I'm glad to have the support that I am 'doing the right thing.' :)

1:20 AM  
Blogger the old bag said...

Oh man...sounds like a similar revelation -- mine had to do with every dollar that went into those shoes being a dollar that didn't go into the retirement fund (and we all know shoes are more than a dollar).

And after 20 years at 8% I'd have...well, shoes.

5:24 AM  
Blogger Roberta said...

Hi OB, I never had such a revelation, thank goodness. So I have all the shoes I will ever need for retirement. Maybe, some time later, we can swap a pair if we tire of the same old, same old. I can wear any oversized shoe cause I have really big feet. ;)

12:02 AM  

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