Hi. My name is Colleen and I am a shopaholic.
Bargain boutiques are my poison. In fact I am embarrassed to admit that I am probably single-handedly responsible for the Chinese invasion of Africa. It is a trifle disconcerting to hear the throaty chuckle of the delighted, elderly proprietor of my local Chinese store as I enter her irresistible shop. Forget that ‘inscrutable Chinese thing’. You can see her develop yuan signs in her gleaming eyes when she welcomes me in, unable to resist rubbing her hands together in glee. The little treasure trove inhabits a spot right next to the ATM so I have real trouble avoiding it.
My two daughters encourage different types of addict’s behaviour from me: Shannon is an enabler (actually an encourager and very often a downright, pompom waving cheerleader), yet Caitlin’s accountant husbandry brings out the sneak in me. The boys go for interventionist behaviour and physically remove me from the vicinity, but that’s just because they hate waiting while I browse for a good buy alongside giggling shop assistants.
An addict tends towards excessive consumption of the addictive substance and I have been known to purchase items in more than one colour – ok I often do that – but it’s because I battle to make decisions. Anyway, less is not more. More is more.
I’ve heard that addicts frequent various establishments to obtain the object of their obsession, and I have noticed this tendency in myself. But sometimes other outlets sell the same item cheaper, so it pays to shop around.
So what if I feel better after an impulse buying spree?! Thrift shop therapy is seriously cheaper than Prozac or a counsellor.
At least I’m not in denial. Then I’d really have a problem.