Have I mentioned that I hate shopping? It's one of the most frustrating and body-image-problem-creating ventures ever invented. You drive to an over-priced department store (because the cheap-o places have crappy clothes that fall apart after the first washing), and wander through strangely shaped aisles of racks upon racks of gaudy-colored shirts that somebody thought were a good idea. There's a cute little sundress, pretty much just like the one you wanted, but no! your size isn't there. Well, try on the neighbor, which is the wrong color but the right size, and wait in line for a teeny fitting room that smells of feet, and of course it fits you on top, but most definitely not on the bottom, so you put it back, because it's what your mom taught you to do because the salesclerks will chatter and roll their eyes at you anyway. So much for looking up-to-date or trendy or... new. You wander over to the clothes that you always wear: nice, safe t-shirts and maybe a nice shirt for work. They mostly fit, and it's fine because the people who will see you in them the most is your stay-at-home-cat, and he doesn't care as long as you scratch him behind the ears for 5.6 minutes before he swats at your hand.
Why anyone actually goes shopping to relax or as a reward is beyond me.
Can someone please explain to me the benefits of such actions?
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