Cheers to good ol' shopping
Miss Selfridge & Topshop had a membership preview sale so I expertly managed to get my dad to come along with me. It's a long story, we shan't bother with details. The sale started at 3 but my dad, being late (what's new?), only returned home at 3.30 pm. We reached the mall at about 4 and the place was packed. Too many girls, too few clothes. Not a pretty sight. I could take pictures of my pleasant finds but I'm too lazy so we'll stick to describing them: pale cream tank with faux pearls at the neckline; black & white horizontal striped knit sweater, tropical orange tank tied up at the back; long-sleeved pink top with a fairy/maiden/wtv in front. Pretty satisfied although I know I could have gotten more - I was just too lazy to look around. Would have gotten jeans but the idea of stuffing my sweaty legs into blue material didn't appeal to me. Queues to the dressing room were too long anyway.
Shopping is great - despite my cynicism towards human dependence on material and concrete things. I love shopping. It takes away all the worries, the loneliness, the emptiness, the pain. It's funny how clothes fulfill me - almost nothing (or no one) else can. The smell of new clothes exhilarates me; trying them on excites my body and buying them electrifies me. I love the way they hug every curve of your body, showing shadows and silhouette against the wall. I love the coldness of the fabric sliding down your back and chest, leaving you strangely satiated. They tempt your lustful eyes with hypnotic chanting. Buy, buy, buy.
On a lighter note, I like him. He intrigues me with every move til I'm helpless, I'm breathless, I can't keep my cool. Sorry to borrow that line from Miss I-think-I'm-hot-stuff Aguilera but it's apt, so live with it. It's strange how I can't stop thinking about him. Every thing I say, do or think about, jumps back to thoughts of him. What did I ever do to deserve this? I think I have to go shopping again.
Excuse me while I chat up my dad.
Shopping is great - despite my cynicism towards human dependence on material and concrete things. I love shopping. It takes away all the worries, the loneliness, the emptiness, the pain. It's funny how clothes fulfill me - almost nothing (or no one) else can. The smell of new clothes exhilarates me; trying them on excites my body and buying them electrifies me. I love the way they hug every curve of your body, showing shadows and silhouette against the wall. I love the coldness of the fabric sliding down your back and chest, leaving you strangely satiated. They tempt your lustful eyes with hypnotic chanting. Buy, buy, buy.
On a lighter note, I like him. He intrigues me with every move til I'm helpless, I'm breathless, I can't keep my cool. Sorry to borrow that line from Miss I-think-I'm-hot-stuff Aguilera but it's apt, so live with it. It's strange how I can't stop thinking about him. Every thing I say, do or think about, jumps back to thoughts of him. What did I ever do to deserve this? I think I have to go shopping again.
Excuse me while I chat up my dad.