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Confessions of a Shop-a-Phobe:
I hate shopping...
I stand up in front of the room. "Hi, my name is Christine, and I don't like shopping.""Hi Christine," the room answers.
"See, it's like this," I begin, wringing my hands nervously. "I tell people I don't like shopping, and they don't believe me. 'But you're a girl!' they say. And I am a girl. And I like girly things - well, most of them. But with shopping, I just never got into it. At first, I lied about it to fit in. Shopping trips to the Eaton Centre with my friends, hitting Ikea with my sister, window-shopping on Queen Street on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Soon, I thought I was living a lie. I went along with it, even though it was killing me inside.
'Come to the mall, Christine,' my friends would say. 'You'll like it.' I couldn't say no, I didn't know how to say no. I hid things well. Acted interested in the clothes. Even tried things on. But they didn't notice that I never bought anything, that all the times I was looking at clothes I was actually reading a book that I concealed in my bag.
I just never liked malls. They're always too crowded and too commercial. Oy, don't even get me started on the amount of walking and standing involved. The clerks in the stores try to push things on you that you don't want to buy, or completely ignore you. I've been to stores where the clerks took one look at me and decided to help someone else, probably because I wasn't fashionable enough for them. Hello! That's why I'm there! I'm there to buy your clothes that will make me more fashionable! But you won't help me so I'll take my unfashionable ass home then!"
A woman in the front bursts into sobs. A man behind her pats her reassuringly on the shoulder.
I continue bravely. "I couldn't take it anymore. It got to the point where I would lie to my friends. 'I can't come to the mall,' I'd say. 'I have to take my cat to the vet.' For years, they thought I had a cat, when in reality I'm allergic to them. Slowly, they caught on. That's when I knew my lies had to stop. So I told them one day.
At first, they didn't believe me. 'You seemed fine to us,' they said. 'You looked like you were enjoying it.' And I would explain to them that shopping was not at all euphoric for me. When I think of the word 'shopping' I equate that with 21st century torture. I like clothes, but I'm not in love with them. Sometimes, to me, they're just things to cover up my nakedness. I shop about once a year, and in that time I buy many items at once so I don't have to go back. And my shopping trips usually consist of hitting Jacob and then going home.
I wouldn't have blamed my friends if they never wanted to talk to me again. 'You don't like shopping!' I could picture them say. 'What a freak of nature!' But surprisingly, they were very supportive. My best girl bud loves shopping, so we compromise. I go shopping with her, and afterwards she buys me some alcohol. When I make faces, Michelle knows that it's time for us to go. Phan won't even think to ask me, bless her soul. For special occasions, my friends know to buy me clothes, which saves me the trouble of going to buy them myself. With such a great support system, it wasn't too hard to tell people the truth.
Once in a while I'll still get the incredulous look or disbelieving 'Yeah, right.' I think that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Sometimes I still get depressed and wish that I could dig those capris or drool over that pair of boots with my friends. But now, at least, I know that I'm not alone."
When I finish, the room is unusually quiet. It seems like time is suspended. A woman stands up and begins clapping slowly. The man next to her follows, and another man in the back follows him. Soon, everyone is standing and clapping excitedly.
I wait for the cheering to die down, elated that my secret is finally out. "So, where's the free food at?" ¤ C.Ho.