retail therapy.

From the time I was a little girl, my mother raised me to be a shopper. I cannot even explain to you the amount of times my mom, sister and I have set out on a shopping day and returned home with a car filled with bags. My poor, poor father. My poor, poor father’s wallet is more like it. Now, I don’t know if it’s the comfort of knowing that this is a talent given to me by my mother, or just the simple act of being selfish and purchasing things for myself, but I find quite a good amount of comfort in shopping. As I’ve gotten older, I have begun to enjoy and savor shopping all alone. Particularly, shopping at Target alone.

There’s just something about Target that makes me want to walk around endlessly inside of it for hours. It’s therapeutic for me--the act of walking through each section, perusing each shelf, knowing each end-cap discount aisle, running my fingers over each shirt on the 50% off rack. Some go to therapy once a week to help them mentally feel better—I go to Target. To each their own, right?

So yesterday after work I drove straight to Target. My heart kind of let out a little sigh of relief when I pulled into the parking lot. It needed it. I needed it. And my closet, well, it definitely needed those 2 tops and a sweater that I purchased there. The trip was a success, and I definitely left there with a smile on my face.

xoxo--K