When a non-shopper goes shopping

S

omething happened when I was planning what to wear for my work Christmas party.

I realized that every party dress that I own is over a decade old. I have a total of two nice dresses and one more that can be jazzed up if I wear nice earrings and the room is dim.

I felt like this year was the year to bite the metaphoric bullet and buy a new dress.

Because I am a 35-year-old grown woman with two kids of her own, it makes complete sense for my mommy to take me to the mall and buy me a dress.

Thankfully, we had childcare and we didn’t have to drag two cranky children on the world’s fastest clothing expedition so my mother and I had a relaxing and quiet evening strolling through Pine Centre looking at party dresses. Well, sort of. You see, one of the reasons that my mom and I shop well together is that neither one of us like shopping. Given a specific target (cute party dress) we stand at the front of a store and plan our attack: one goes right, the other goes left, grabbing shiny pieces as we go. We meet at the back of the store to fill a change room with ill-fitting and poorly thought out outfits and the lucky person (me) gets to try on the candidates for “cute party dress” in the style of a shootout at the O.K. Corral. First dress: oh god, no. Second dress: hmmm, bunchy in the neck. Third dress: maybe. Fourth dress: would be nice on someone 50 pounds lighter and eight inches taller so, on me, it looks like a very bad idea. Fifth dress: Cute! And done. Thirty minutes and we are out of the mall one bag heavier, wallet a bit lighter (thanks, mom!) and ready to go home and go to bed. Wham, bam, thank you mom. There are people who like to shop. These people are not me.

The older I get, the less I am interested in being in a store around strangers looking at the latest clothing fad that confuses me or doesn’t suit me. Also, shopping makes my feet hurt and my shoulders tight.

But, the sad state of my wardrobe is becoming increasingly obvious and I will need to start replacing the items I am gleefully throwing out but I feel like a toddler refusing a nap: “I just don’t wanna!”

Please don’t make me go in the stores with the people and the change rooms with the hooks and the small benches and try on the pretty clothes that don’t quite fit. I just don’t wanna. Maybe I’ll start sewing my own clothes.

What could go wrong?