Confessions of an Addict

I have an addiction.

No. Not that kind of addiction.

I'm a shopping addict.

There. It's been said.

I crave the noise of shopping malls. I long for the (usually) friendly, "Have a nice day!" at the end of the transacation. I'm desperate for the thrill of a bargain. I begin to get excited over the potential of a shopping trip while watching those catchy adds on tv.

I have no idea when this started. Isn't this supposed to be something associated with teenagers? Now, I know I'm not too far past my teen years, but I never had this problem as a teenager. Too busy, I suppose, being a demi-band geek (or a "twirly girl", as Kevin so lovingly refers to it). I never hated shopping, but I was definitely not the compulsive shopper I am now.

And...I'm a therapy shopper. The urge hits after a bad day, when I'm bored, and when I'm lonely. This last cause is especially dangerous for a woman whose husband regularly takes business trips that last anywhere between 3 days and two weeks....and could last as long as six months!. Which is why this is on my mind tonight. Kevin's off on another business trip and I'm feeling lonely, so the urge is to buy something. Anything. A book. Shoes. A movie. Pants. Picture frames. A lamp. The list is endless. Unfortunately, I've made a personal resolution to evaluate why I'm making a purchase: Is it because it's something I need, or is it because I'm sad and spending money makes me feel better? I've been doing really well. I haven't made a frivolous purchase like that yet this year. "Good girl!" she says.

So I wait. And watch commercials. And hold myself back. And maybe feel a little bit proud for conquering, if only temporarily, this little addiction.

Oh, and grocery shopping does NOT qualify as retail therapy.