Confessions of a Shopaholic

Last week, I admitted to my Tylenol PM dependence. (And, by the way, I checked myself out of rehab.  Can a Tylenol PM every night really hurt me?  Nah.  But not taking one sure can.)  Today, I will come clean with another addiction.  I am a shopaholic. 

Online shopping, particularly discount shopping, changed my life.  I used to plan my work day around the 11am RueLaLa and 12pm Gilt sales.  I'll never forget the reaction from my boss when I called to let her know I would be late to a meeting because Louboutin was on Gilt. (A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.  Work can wait.  Right?)   "Unacceptable JulieSue!  What are you thinking?!"  (BTW, guess who called and begged me to work for her again? Uh huh.)

Now that I spend my days at home, walking outside, and attending baby classes, I find I no longer want need to shop online for personal designer duds.  Plus, making the 11am and Noon deadlines is often difficult.  My new boss (you know, the 18-pounder who pooped up to his armpits yesterday) is even less sympathetic than my Loub-lacking manager.  When he's hungry or tired, explaining to him that "Mommy needs a new pair of shoes" just doesn't convince him to wait.   

So, to satisfy my shopping fix, Ari and I take a daily shop-walk.  Sometimes, we stock up at Trader Joes (and hope we don't run into a Trader Shmoe ), often we peruse the baby gear aisles at Magic Beans, occasionally we buy a pound of coffee at Starbucks, and a few times a week, we browse and buy at the Crap Gap.  I feel a little rush when I blow a few bucks in the neighborhood, and more importantly, I feel like a failure when I come home empty-handed.  

I admit I have a problem.  According to this 12 Step Program, "shopping addiction operates the same way as heroin addiction."  Before I star on an episode of Cops (high on a shopping spree, bloody, naked, sweating, and in possession of a bag that "isn't mine"), I better get my shopping in check.

...Oh crap, there's a big sale at Bloomingdale's AND I have a coupon.