once upon a time, before i loved shopping

it’s amazing how much i enjoy shopping now. so much that i sometimes have to restrain myself from looking into a store. it wasn’t always like this. i used to hate it. i would splurge on food, gifts for friends, and expensive books, but never for clothes to wear.

i even wrote a poem about it two years ago:

shopping

i say:
this is me,
from my hand-me-down clothes
with faded cats on the hem, and a
hint of a brownish stain on the sleeve,
pants that don’t fit in the morning
and falling loose at the end of the day
slippers with miles on their worn, road-carved soles.
i say, they are fine,
memories and tastes of people suit me
my personality wears them
even better than they ever could.
i hate the bright white lights
in dressing rooms
and mirrors that show every bump and
dimple too up close.
i hate picking out
something to love in between
hundreds of clothes,
hanging like skins drying out on a rack,
and seeing it on me.
too tight, too big.
my skin too pale and uneven under
the light. curves in wrong places.
shadows under my eyes.
and this is me.

you say:
they’re fine.
don’t be silly
you need new clothes.

(July 27, 2005)