Whoops I’ve Done It Again

It wouldn’t have taken a crystal ball to see my life taking shape as a shopaholic, and, to be honest as a bit of a hoarder. Even as a child the signs were there. I used to love collecting things - from the cardboard mushroom boxes at fruit and veggie shops that doubled as doll carrycots, to the pamphlets on every type of savings account that I would pick up from the bank (and let me add those pamphlets were not being collected to be read).

The problem has obviously grown exponentially with adulthood and a love of fashion. You’d think that having children would have massively hampered my ability to keep my hand in, but you’d be wrong. Historically I have made some of my best purchases in the small hours, furtively weaving my mouse through to the check out of an online store, while simultaneously breastfeeding a newborn. That said I’ve also made more than my fair share of stuff-ups in similar situations; there’s no feeling quite so heady as that one at 2am when you’re the first person to read the email in your inbox telling you new season stock has arrived. Unfortunately those impulse buys that are purely driven out of sheer fear that when the rest of the world wakes up, someone less deserving and on the fashion ball than you will end up with your item, don’t always work out that well. Case in point when I happened upon some gold skinny jeans at 3 am; nerves jangled that if I left my purchase until the morning that the last pair would be snapped up, and it wouldn’t be by me. With the adrenalin coursing through my veins and sleep deprivation making me just a little tiny bit crazy, I totally overlooked the fact that the only size actually left was not mine. In fact it would only be big enough to fit either a pre-pubescent teenager or Victoria Beckham. Did that stop me? Well, what do you think. So yes, I do own a pair of JBrand skinny gold jeans that I can only wear to places with very clean toilet floors, as I have to lie on the floor - any floor - to get even close to zipping them up. Worse still, if I’m honest, when I have finally secured them in place, they are highly unflattering - I have been told by an honest friend that they actually make my legs look like fat sizzling sausages just before the skin bursts and lumps of pig fat fly everywhere.