Girls love shopping, we love to spend our free time happily skipping around the shops, trying on swishy dresses, swinging around our bags of beautiful things and laughing with our friends as we strut down the high street. Yeah right, if we lived an advert for tampons. I have no idea where this idea about the carefree woman shopper came from but it’s all lies.
We are all familiar with the shopping scene from Pretty Woman and her happy face as she kicks ass on Rodeo Drive, but in reality if we had a billionaire offering to buy us a wardrobe full of clothes you just know there wouldn’t be one thing, not one damn thing, you would like.
Shopping in real life is a largely frustrating experience, exacerbated by retailers inability to size consistently, a lack of funds, friends who are thinner than you, males who act as if they are being subjected to some sort of torture because they can’t sit down every five minutes and children who don’t seem to realise you have to replace the snot encrusted clothes they ruin every now and again. And would it be too much to ask for shops to actually buy curtains that pull all the way across the changing room and don’t even get me started on those communal monstrosities, do I look like freaking hippy?
Shops are too hot, too cramped and littered with hazards. Random displays of shoes and handbags, clothes on the floor and other people’s shopping make me feel like I’m on Wipeout. And the worst, the absolute bollocking worst thing, piles of folded clothes, what are hangars just too uncool these days. What the crap am I meant to do with this pile of clothes you expect me to sort through and not actually move at the same time. Don’t think I can’t see you giving me the evil eye, as if to say ‘if you dare mess up that pile I will cut you’. Hangars, for the sanity of everyone the solution is hangars.
No wonder most people are resorting to online shopping these days, who needs to deal with actual people.
My shopping trips usually end up with me throwing a strop because clothes rarely fit me. I’m only 5’1″ and this makes shopping for trousers pretty much impossible, petites look like ankle swingers but regular lengths make me look like my mother is dressing me for the next three years of school. Dresses aren’t much better, having a larger chest means that my life is in search of a dress that doesn’t show my bra when I lift up my arms. I end up standing at the entrances of dressing rooms asking my husband if I could get away with the dress if I didn’t lift my upper arms, he tells me its fine if I want to look like penguin. Yeah hun that was exactly the look I was going for. I still end up buying the stupid dress in the hope that it will magically change in the bag on the way home and then get pissed off when I get home and it still doesn’t fit.
Ladies can we please be honest and admit that shopping actually a huge pain in the ass we cannot find a pair of trouser to fit.