Retail Therapy

Aaah, two magical words known to the female species. Extremely familiar, yet magical with no fail. Retail Therapy.

It often boggles me how such a simple activity as shopping can miraculously tweak one's mood. It consists of a lot of observation, some walking, an exchange of goods and an absolutely tickled soul. Sort of like a drug, the ephemeral high is something we all chase after... and we often say silent prayers for it to last longer than the last time.

With the power of technology, it has become possible to indulge in this without stepping out of our homes. Regardless whether or not this is a bad thing, it still causes smiles to spread in our eager faces. For instance, a simple 5-letter word re-injected color into my angst-ridden Friday earlier: Chloe. Thank you to the geniuses behind net-a-porter and Federal Express. Even though I will most likely be nourishing myself with cans of tuna and instant noodles for the next several weeks, I now know how it feels to have died and gone to heaven... and then feast on Prozac while I am over there. Please. Don't kill the buzz. Let me enjoy my moments of fleeting joy.

I'll worry about my state of broke-ness later on.

Retail therapy is good for mankind. It fuels the economies of the world. It gives more power to the already powerful nations, it boosts private consumption, it provides cash inflow into the system... but most importantly, it lessens the blow of a femme's PMS. Can't argue with that. Imagine the nightmare if women don't have shopping to turn to during an uber-bad day? Shall spare you the details.

So yes, new tote bag, new debt. Instant happiness, highly possible regret to follow. Must everything be a trade-off? I better enjoy my super short honeymoon period. After all, I probably just gave up eating for the next month or so.