the chronicles of a serial shopaholic
my new years resolution came 2 months 2 late. O_o
thou shalt stop commiting sins;
namely blowing money faster than the life-span k-fed’s singing career.
you see, i have a problem.
and BIG one.
and i need help. maybe therapy, hypnosis. maybe another hobby.
i suffer from a spawn of an affliction known as the "hyper-excessive-compulsive- shopping-disorder".
experts have characterised this disorder as being somewhat centered around:
- individuals who lose almost all of their physical and mental self control, when left stranded in a shopping mall
necessary precautions to be taken:
(NEVER leave an individual suffering from this affliction ALONE, unsupervised and UNRESTRAINED, in the presence of shops, namely designer shoes, handbags, and pretty/shiny/chic and/or/ as clothing)
- common syptoms experienced by these individuals include a short term memory loss
(normally between the times when a HOT piece of clothing/bag/pairofshoes is spotted to the moment the card is swiped/cash payed)
-individuals also tend to hyperventilate and experience strange emotional highs/lows soon after, when they regain their SENSES, and realise the items they have just purchased are almost ALWAYS NON REFUNDABLE.
necessary precautions to be taken:
(consolation in the from of alcohol, is NOT recommended, but nicotine and a bit of dark chocolate should do the trick…if all should fail do it the ol’skool way and say: "if you aint got no money take your broke ass home!" or something of that sort)
*****************
the chain of events which then morphed into a downward spiral started off like this:
**********************
trouble from down under:
yes, taken in a literal sense. i woke up one morning to an uncalled for, annoying itchy-scratchy experience down under.
being the drama-mama that i am, i quickly rang the smelly and told him about my inconvenient, unglamourous dilemma.
being the kind, considerate smelly that he is, he came straight over, and offered to take me to the nearest gynae in the area.
so there i was seated at the gynae’s table, being questioned to-fro, back-forth about my sexual history, eating habits, (of lord forbid!) weight and being enlightened about STD’s, and safe sex and on and on.
that wasnt the worst part
the doctor (who was a SHE btw) said she needed to examine me down under. O_o
uh.oh.
after an unnerving 10 mins of probing me w a intrusive cold metal object, she concluded that i had a yeast infection.
say wot?
being the inquisite person that i am, i asked her wot had caused it.
too much sex? too much wearing skanky underwear? not showering enough?
she replied curtly: "the exact opposite, love. you’re in fact, TOO CLEAN".
the way she sounded made me feel like a sterilised specimen.
well i never!
if i ever knew upkeeping my personal hygiene would in fact cause me to get some nasty itchy-scratchys, i wouldnt shower for a week!
well, i left her room, feeling utterly violated, confused and dumbfounded,
the gynae had one thing left to say after all the fucking probing., "well, girl, you’ve got a nice vagina! il give you that".
O_o
oh god.
the smelly was also curious.
"so, so…howdidit go?"
"apparently im too hygienic la…must be all your faut. YOU’RE the SMELLY!"
"oh."
smelly paid the bill, maybe so that id stop ranting about my unsettling experience at the doc’s.
*********************
fast forward 24 hours later, and well, i was in need of some serious shopping therapy.
after lunch-ing with sya & co., i hauled my ass over the midvalley to look at some pretty shiny things.
i got side tracked *somehow*, and "pretty shiny things" ended up being :
-a whole brand spanking new range of biotherm face and body products
(i bought so much stuff, they gave me so much free shit, and a huge new white tote to lug all the shit in it -_-)
- i managed to potter over to kookai, and again entered and left the store a new member
- then, right in front of me, stood more pretty, shiny colours, in the form of M.A.C.
that stupid mook of a salesgirl somehow succeeded in convincing me that my looks were only salvageable with the new range of dunno-wot-the-fuck volume-crap mascara, eyeliners, foundation and nonsense.
needless to say, i got conned once more. bitch -_-
i suddenly panicked as i realised howmuch ive spent, not counting the debt i had yet to repay for the mini-fortune i blew in bangkok.!
oh fuck!
it suddenly dawned upon me, there were rows and rows and rows of more shops to conquer, and no DAMAGE CONTROL SQUAD.
"oh fuck, i need to get out of here, before, i lose it again, and ring smelly, and wail, and complain, and insist he come and get me".
i said to myself.
so off i tottered carrying to heavy shopping bags of nonsensical, but HOT, pretty shiny things.
but alas, on the way up…to the car park, i spotted the cutest most adorable turquoise floaty top staring at me, in the sonny san boutique.
"no. no more. i cant. i love you, but i cant". i said
"yes, love, you can". she whispered
"NO, I CANT, i need lunch money for next week". i retaliated, frowning.
"oh yes you can, you can live out of your parent’s fridge…or better still, NOT EAT!" she reasoned
"shut up". i sweated
"you could stand to lose a few pounds…yknow.."
"SHUT UP!"
"just buy me, bitch! you know you want to"
-_-
so i did. i spent my last 200RM on a bloddy floaty top. in my defense, it did look damn good. -_-
i practically ran up the escalator, togging my bags of "pretty shiny things",
with just enough spare cash to pay for parking
to get the hell out of there.
***************
so, here i am, sitting at my computer RMxxxx poorer, and smoking to console thyself.
tis’ been a long day. i guess the therapy wasnt THAT bad.
thou shalt not shop. no more. no more, man.
well, till next month at least ;P
