I’ve got something to admit: I am an online shopping addict. Not so much so that my friends have sent me to seek counsel about it – although I suspect they’ve been close to it a few times – but enough that I am constantly shocked when my bank statement comes in and I take a look at my weekly outgoings.
And let me tell you – that money ain’t being spent on food. In fact, give me bread and water for a week if it means I can get myself a new bikini or a pair of high-waisted jeans with that perfect little rip at the knee.
I’ve also witnessed first hand that I most certainly am not alone in my addiction. Up until a year ago, I was working in an office full of girls. The room was literally brimming with oestrogen. And what came along with a side of oestrogen? Online shopping. And lots of it. Yep, the e-tail industry is alive and kicking.
As I was often one of the first to arrive in the morning – what can I say, I kinda enjoyed the peace and quiet before the 9am rush – I would spend the initial five minutes walking around to different desks to deliver various parcels that had arrived throughout the night. Like a kid at Christmas, I would give the package a little gentle shake to confirm that ‘yessss’ it was indeed clothing – and then I’d accost my colleagues on arrival with gentle suggestions to open their packages immediately and obviously show me their shopping. Did I mention I’m an addict?
But while I miss those days of sharing in the delights of a daily online parcel arrival, of people asking me “Should I buy this” and me answering without blinking “Yes, yes, yes!!”, the silver lining is now when the doorbell rings with the familiar glimpse of a bright yellow two-piece with a flash of red that can only belong to a DHL man, I know that delivery is going to be just for me. And if I hadn’t bought five things that week – I’d even know exactly what it was that was being delivered.
Extra: It's Not You, Here's Why Clothes Don't Fit Properly
The Quicky
