You know how optimistic and full of resolve I was last week? Well, that was last week.
Maybe it's allergies or a cold coming on, but I've been dragging the past seven days. I've been doing a lot of reflection and writing on the role that shopping and clothing has played in my life, which I will share later, but I keep hearing that nagging voice that's whispering to me: you'll never be a real writer, what are you doing with your life? so what if you go a whole year without buying clothes - plenty of people do that anyway, what are you trying to prove?
At the beginning of the month, Groupon offered a deal I couldn't resist (see how I am hardwired to respond to bargains?) for a month-long pass to a swanky yoga studio. In many ways it's a huge upgrade from my usual gym. It's perfumed with essential oils and the ceiling is lined with bamboo mats. But it presents a tremendous stumbling block: the room where you wait for your class is also a boutique full of insanely cute and very pricey Lulemon clothes. Needless to say, I find my eyes wandering over the racks of purple tops as I tie my shoes. Note to self: wear slip-on shoes next time.
But I really knew I was heading for trouble when I took my son to a rock climbing class. The indoor climbing gym also has a little sport shop in the lobby — mostly caribiners, rock tape and serious equipment like that. While waiting for the class to finish, I found myself wandering over to the sale rack (again) and thumbing through the different colors of t-shirts printed with the gym's logo.
The backstory: I rarely wear shirts with words or company logos on them. In fact, if you ever see me dressed in a tee with a saying on it, I am either
- Required to wear it for some event, or
- About to do some really dirty job and put on a shirt I got for free (see above) that I hope will get horribly stained or destroyed.
Luckily, I came to my senses and averted the near-disaster of purchasing a shirt from the climbing gym.
You're not going to wear THAT, are you?