Am I Too Old To Shop Here?

I’m getting old. Maybe not “bird sweatshirts and pants with elastic waistbands” old – but at least the kind of old where I find myself saying things like, “Is this what the kids are wearing now?”

‘The kids’. I don’t know any adults wearing gingham print crop tops and “distressed high rise bicycle shorts”, so it must be high school kids – otherwise, who is buying “ruched velvet tube bodysuits”?

These are questions that I ask myself every time I step into Forever 21. Also, why am I still going into stores like Forever 21? I am thirty years old. My days of wearing denim mini-skirts and pleather leggings should be over.

And they are! I haven’t worn a denim mini-skirt since… I don’t know, since Laguna Beach was still on the air and it was my mission in life to look like “a brunette version of Kristin Cavallari”. But every once in awhile I still wander into this store thinking that I’ll find something really cute for really cheap and that maybe people will think it was expensive. Maybe people won’t know I only paid $12 for this purse that is clearly a Gucci knock-off and has a brassy looking “C” instead of a “G” because-nobody-wants-to-get-sued-for-product-infringement.

Ugh. I hate those purses.

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How To Wear White Denim.

I live in fear of wearing white jeans. Not because anything has ever happened to me while wearing them, but because every time I’ve tried them on I spend at least ten to fifteen minutes in a dressing room trying to convince myself that they aren’t “that bad”.

They aren’t “that see-through” or “that tight” and they don’t make my thighs look “that big”.

I don’t like to spend money on things that aren’t “that bad”. Especially not something that could give me mom-butt.

So I’ve never bought white jeans. I’ve wanted to. You can’t walk past a J. Crew window in the months of May, June and July without seeing a mannequin wearing some sort of white denim. And it looks so chic.“It’s a summer staple!” — says every fashion blog, magazine, and “Summer Outfits!” Pinterest board. Also that rule about how “you can’t wear white after Labor Day”.

I’ve tried. I mean, I’ve tried. I’ve tried them on over and over again and tried to convince myself that – 1) they didn’t make me look fat, 2) you couldn’t see my underwear through them, and 3) I didn’t look like someone who works in an ice cream shop…. but that’s a lot to ask of a pair of jeans. Maybe not a pair of dark jeans, or normal-colored jeans- but white jeans? Eek. Good luck.

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Confessions of A Shopaholic.

“So after we get married, whose bank are we going to use?”

Whose bank are we going to use? Not only do Kyle and I have two separate checking accounts, we have two separate banks. For now. Word on the street is that “married people” have this saying- “It’s not MY money, it’s OUR money.”

Right. But, technically, it is still my money, right?

“Uh…” To say that I hadn’t thought about it would be a lie. I’d thought about it. Of course I’d thought about it. “Mine…” I suggested, “I guess?”

Not like it matters. Eventually he’s going to see how much money I spend on make-up and hair products. Where the bank statement comes from doesn’t really matter.

“But here’s the thing,” I said – because I have nothing to hide – “Maybe we should still have separate accounts. Like, we can have a joint account – you know, for bills and groceries, but then we’ll each have our own SEPARATE account too… for, other things. You know, personal things.”

“Personal” things. I sound like a fifteen year old girl who’s embarrassed that she has to buy tampons. This man is going to be my husband. What could I possibly have to hide from him?

Besides the fact that if he saw a $130 charge to Sephora pop up on our “shared bank statement”, he’d probably have some questions. Like “Why did you spend $130 at Sephora? Isn’t that a make-up store?” And when I say “I needed some moisturizer”, he’s going to ask me why I need moisturizer that costs $130 and “can’t you find something cheaper?” and when I say “but this is the Kate Somerville Wrinkle Warrior moisturizer with retinol”, he’ll ask “So? Don’t they sell moisturizer at Walmart?” and then he’s going to try to make me buy the moisturizer at Walmart.

You guys. I can’t start buying my moisturizer at Walmart. It may have worked for me when I was a teenager, but I’m thirty now. I need the hard stuff.

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How to Shop Your Own Closet.

I was inspired to write this post because I *didn’t* buy a jacket. 

Back story – I have fifteen thousand jackets at home. Probably. I haven’t counted, but I know that when I open up our “coat closet” (also doubles as our laundry/shoe/vacuum/Swiffer closet) most of the coats that I see in there are mine. Maybe three of them are Kyle’s. And one of those I bought for him. 

This post could have just as easily been titled “Confessions of a Shopaholic” or “How to be a Crazy Coat Lady” – but honestly, that’s a little embarrassing and – based solely on my experience today – I am clearly turning a corner outside of my consumerism mindset. 

Exhibit A: I did not buy a jacket. I *almost* did. But then, I didn’t! Yay! (Isn’t this a great story so far?) 

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