I am a self-confessed shopaholic.
Savings are a myth.
My wardrobe has a particular colour spectrum – close to 80% is black.
Black is slimming.
I own shoes – many for that fact.
Upwards of fifty pairs, with no intention of stopping.
Still, I never know what to wear.
So I shop some more.
The cycle is endless and my bank account is poor, but the fucks I give is nearer to zero than any other number.
Shopping makes me happy, crazy happy.
Deliveries are like Christmas.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with it – says me.
Mind you, I refuse to get a credit card because I know it will only end badly – that makes me somewhat wise.
I do not hesitate in purchasing a $150.00 top.
I don’t buy extravagant things, I buy simple and classic pieces.
I’ll pay money for good quality.
Nothing will stop me – except my bank account.
But there you go, confessions of a shopaholic.