It’s happened to us all—our boyfriend just broke up with us, our credit card bill came in the mail, or we’ve faced some other semi-tragedy that we just can’t seem to get over. Instead of working out or doing something else that’s productive and beneficial, we decide to participate in what may be the best and worst invention ever: retail therapy.
We’ve totally been through the stages of retail therapy, have you?
You glance at your closet, and notice it’s looking particularly empty. Suddenly, a genius idea pops into your head: Shopping will totally cure my sadness!
You throw on some clothes and you’re immediately filled with adrenaline.
You think you’ll start off small at Zara and H&M because they’re close to your apartment, and they’re not too expensive.
You’re scouring the store for anything you find interesting and for some reason today, everything is just ugly and stupid and you hate it all.
You’re walking along when you pass a [fill in designer store of your choice] and even though you know it’s bad news, you go in anyway.
You’ve barely made it through the door when you suddenly spot most perfect handbag in the history of the universe and all your problems sudden go away.
You obviously need this miracle, so you look at the price—$875.
Your sadness begins to sink in again, so you say to yourself “You know what, I deserve it.” So, you take the damn bag to the counter and charge it.
You prance back to your pad feeling like you solved the world’s biggest problems, new bag in hand.
All your worries are gone and life is finally good again. You’re so happy, that you think about starting your own bag-therapy consulting film.
Cut to three day later. You’re about to head out the door with your new bag, and suddenly you remember that rent is due, and so is your cell phone bill and your student loan payment.
But you just spend almost $1,000 (with tax!) on that dumb bag, and now you’re starting to feel like your life is literally falling apart.
So, you run back to the store to return the bag but realized you threw out the receipt in a fit of joy, so you list it on eBay for way less than it’s worth, and swear to yourself that next time you’re in a crisis, you’ll just drink a big glass of wine like everybody else.