Not to get too personal, but my birthday was this month.
Nope, too late, you don’t get credit if you already missed it. Anyway, my birthday—for once—isn’t the point. The point is for some reason this year I’ve noticed I’m… how shall I put this… getting older.
Shocking, I know, but it’s true. I keep looking in the mirror and wondering what happened to my 22-year-old skin, for example. And I’d really like to know who made off with my 19-year-old knees. But the thing that occurred to me just before I sat down to write to you today is perhaps the most baffling change of all, the one that’s left me puzzling and puzzing ‘til my puzzler’s all sore.
Do I… not like shopping anymore?
I know some people have always hated shopping, and I invite those people to chill the fuck out and hold their rants against the time-honored traditions of binge-capitalism until the end. Maybe pretend I’ve stopped enjoying some other thing they do, like… fuck, I don’t know, wearing socks with Birkenstocks or complaining about seasonally-themed beverages. Because I used to love shopping, and having the excuse of “I need a new Thing” was exciting because it meant I could spend weeks checking every known shop and all online options for the most perfect Thing. Now?
- If they don’t sell it on Amazon I seriously reevaluate the degree of my need.
- If it must be purchased locally, I check for delivery options anyway, to avoid going out.
- If I must go out, I plan what other things I will need from that shop so as to make only one trip.
- I try to send Husband anyway, even resorting to sending him with empty packaging or pictures of the Thing.
Am I turning into a hermit?
Nope. K texted asking for an impromptu Starbucks date and I was out the door in 15 minutes flat—I went out without makeup on my face, I was that excited to be around people.
So what’s the deal?
Sorry, that was a serious question, not the setup for a joke. I honestly don’t have an answer. What I do have are three wallets. Four, if you count my old one. Because that’s who I’m turning into: a person who, when she needs a new wallet, searches Amazon instead of shopping the real world for something exactly like her old wallet because I hate change. And that is what makes the whole “I don’t like shopping anymore?” issue all the more distressing to me: I dislike change above all things,* so getting a whole new Me—one I didn’t even order—is unacceptable.
Thoughts? Theories? Anyone been through this? Because I’m thinking it had better clear up before the gifting season starts. Or maybe that’s part of the problem; maybe with all the upheavals so far this year I ran out of Christmas cheer way early, and the stores are depressingly non-peppermint scented.
HOLY SHIT, YOU’RE STILL THINKING ABOUT THE FUCKING WALLETS? Fine, it’s simple: I went online to find one exactly like my old one but of course there was no such thing because I got it a decade ago from a friend and it was a promotional gift from her jewelry company. There are no more. I asked. In the absence of an ideal replacement I ordered three different ones: one that looked very similar to my old one, one that was nothing like it at all but had fucking spikes on it and everyone agreed might as well have been made for me but I hated it because it had a zipper and I like flat wallets, and one that was the same style as my old one but had a weird design on it. The plan was to get all three and return the two I hated most, because I’ve turned into that asshole.
Then I hated all three of them but I was done with shopping, so I stuck with the spiked one. Because the other two felt gross and plastic-y and the one that I thought would be most like my old one turned out to be a cheap Chinese knockoff.
ME: It says USA but you can get cheap Chinese crap anywhere.
ME: (sniffs wallet) It even smells Chinese.
HIM: (double-take) Is that racist?
HIM: (laughs) It sounded racist! “It smells Chinese.”
ME: The plastic. It smells toxic; it’s that cheap crap you get off—
HIM: Oh, toxic. Okay. That’s fine.
ME: (shakes head)
HIM: (laughing) “Smells Chinese.”
ME: YOU KNEW WHAT I MEANT!
HIM: (laughing) Clearly I didn’t!
So now I’ve got a wallet everyone else thinks is soooo cool and I hate it with a fiery passion but I can’t find anything better because there’s nobody selling wallets in my driveway.
Nevermind, even that’s too far. I’m doomed.
* Except pandas. Pandas can choke on their fucking bamboo. Don’t ever get me started on pandas.