I NEED AN INTERVENTION!! They, meaning the savvy, conniving, retailers of America, lured me in to the stores with lights, shiny stars, cheap tricks and promises of holiday bliss. Oh...blessed black friday. I vowed to never go back to sterile arms again, but alas, I failed. I am terribly human.
"Hello, my name is $%$*&$ and I am binge shopper." There, I said it. I am the American consumer. The ultimate economy stimulator. In my closet I have two unworn bras from Victorias Secret, one pair of fresh, shiny boots from Nine West, and drawer of sweaters with H&M tags still hanging on them.
Please, someone, intervention me! Email the lovable Suze Orman so she can deny me the new Macbook I am typing on, with a racially tinged "Girlfriend." Call Sandy or the bald guy from A&E; trick me in to coming to a personal interview; have all my estranged family and friends gather around and read notes on napkins about how my binge shopping has affected them. I'll tantrum wildly and say "No, I won't go." Then grandma will come rolling in with her oxygen tank to deliver the final blow. And I'll say "Yes" and we will all cry and hug as they push me in to the van. I'll be off on the plane to some no-name facility, which I'll probably break out of in a week. But hey, I deserve the experience.
Damn Oprah and her favorite things!