Shopping

Shopping, when you pour your arse into the perfect pair of jeans, is heaven. But how often does that happen?
The hours of dragging clothes on and off in between those heavenly moments you just have to look at as a workout to get your arse into those perfect jeans when you find them.
Those hours can make you descend into depression faster than getting the credit card bill.
I headed onto the street today full of hope and glory, only to have it slowly eaten away the more I tried to buy. At first you think ok I've put on a couple of pounds, I'll lose that and fit these clothes next week. Then it's, oh that designer just doesn't suit me, then it gets to, geez how can anyone look that bad.
Then jetlag hit, I found myself trying to tell myself that this actually looked ok, or not, then realized it was a five dollar singlet and if I did decide I hated it I could just throw it away. At least I had found something. I bought it with no sense of satisfaction and stumbled out onto broadway and realized that it was still daylight.
I wandered on in the vain hope that there would be something somewhere I could look tolerable in when I spotted Dean and Deluca's.
It takes your breath away. Pastries, chocolate, nuts, breads, cheese. Oh, - the cheese. Finally something that would fit me. In if not on. I walked out staggering under the weight of all the goodies thinking, ah well, somewhere in this great city there must be a gorgeous Burkah that will fit.