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Sunday. Sunday I woke up determined to be productive. I sat down, made a to-do list, and told myself– NO MATTER WHAT — I was to get every one of those suckers checked off as “completed.” Invigorated by the potential productiveness, I even opted to take it a step farther. Sitting on the counter for days, an ever-growing stack of coupons (that no one uses but no one ever throws away) beckoned me. It would seem the heavens were on my side– there in the stack of coupons I found a couple that actually would be useful to me. I stuffed them in my wallet, resolved to only go buy items on my shopping list and to be as frugal as possible, and then I drove to Target.

Boy, was that a mistake.

So… Have you heard all this hype about Liberty of London at Target? Okay, I’m going to be honest, I’d never heard of Liberty of London, but I am aware that every so often Target has totally awesome designers make Target-appropriate clothing (i.e: subpar to their line’s usual standards but therefore automatically more affordable) and people go crazy– I mean ca-razy climbing over each other trying to snatch it all up. I usually don’t shop for clothes at Target (I prefer to mope miserably around in stores I can’t afford), so I’ve never fallen victim to this phenomenon. And since apparently the debuts of these limited clothing lines cause women all over America to become snatch happy lunatics, when I am at Target I’ve never really gotten much of a glimpse at the goods, except all the picked-overs and rejects. All this to say, while a lover of Target,  I’ve only found myself indifferent at best about all this special designer crap.

Until Sunday.

When I walked into Target on Sunday morning, I felt a little twinge  of guilt but mostly a wave of pleasure to discover that Target was nearly empty while the rest of Birmingham slept in their church pews or beds. I went through my list and picked out the items I needed. That’s when I saw it. The Liberty of London line, it just so happened, had just been put on display. And no one had gotten to any of it yet. There was only me. I decided to stop and take a look. Just to see what the fuss was about. And oh-em-gee. The clothes were actually kinda cute! And oh, look! They actually fit me pretty well! And oh my! Look at that cute little price tag! And arrrgggg, it’s been so long since I’ve shopped for clothing! I went crazy. Snatch happy, lunatic, crazy.

I bought everything. Okay, that’s an exaggeration– I didn’t buy any maxi dresses because I’ve never found one long enough for me and they make me look ridiculous… and I didn’t touch that god-awful bodysuit thing that I wouldn’t put on my body if it were the last stitch of clothing available to me… and I stayed away from the bathing suits because a) they were dangerously adorable and I didn’t need to go down that road, and b) I am just not ready to see myself in a bathing suit and I didn’t need to go down that road.

But everything else, I bought. I bought 4 dresses (4!!!!!), 2 coverups (one in each pattern, natch, to hide the bathingsuits I don’t want to get into), and 2 tops. Eight items of clothing. EIGHT. In like, 20 minutes.  And it’s not like I can afford to just waltz into a store– even an affordable one like Target– and go all, ‘hey, I think I’ll drop a bajillion dollars today’. Not even close. Not. Even. CLOSE. As Leisel would say, I completely, unequivocally experienced a shopping blackout. And ohhhh my, it felt good. In a really bad, I-shouldn’t-be-doing-this-but-it-feels-so-good kind of way. I lost my head so entirely, I left my phone in the dressing room, drove home, stood in my closet mooning over my purchases and thinking of ways to dress them up and down to get maximum wear out of them, and then realized my phone was missing and turned around and went back to comb the four corners of Target for said phone. Which I finally found. The trackpad was missing (like a mousepad for your computer… only for your phone), but it was an old phone, so that may have happened naturally. Or, perhaps it got stampeded upon by the feminine masses that, only a short hour or so later, had flooded the aisles of Target. I walked out with my crippled phone feeling smug as I passed women quickly emptying racks of clothing. I beat you all, suckaaaas!

Point of the story? I set out to be productive, and hoo boy, was I productive. Items on my list crossed off: Like, 2 out of 10. Unbudgeted expenses: 8. Coupons used: Zero. However, I have a fabulous spring wardrobe to show for it. Don’t bother to ask me to go anywhere, though, because this chick is now officially broke. I probably can’t do anything remotely social that involves spending money for a month. But you’ll find me in my apartment, twirling in my Target brand, designer knock-off clothing and looking fabulous.

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