My name is Nerline and I am a recovered shopaholic. As humans, we tend to get addicted to things, or people for that matter. I was once one of these people. I got addicted to shopping. Both my best friend and I were working on the East side of Manhattan in 1999. We would walk from the east side to the west side of that great city, doing some window shopping whenever we could, which was every time we were scheduled to work together. I was young. I was in college. And spending my financial aid refund checks seemed like the right thing to do. So I did!
I deposited my first financial aid refund check to a chase checking account that I was able to open because of the number of zeros on the check. Back then, Free checking was not available unless you had direct deposit through your job, or you could keep a minimum of $3,000 on your checking account every month. With the checking account came a credit card. With the credit card came more buying power. And with all that buying power came the opportunity to get more credit cards.
As a shopaholic, Victoria’s Secret was my drug of choice. I can remember exactly how I felt when I got my first VS credit card. The adrenaline rush through my veins was something that only a shopaholic could fathom. I guess I was that excited because I had gotten rejected before. Next came the J. Crew credit card, followed by Macy’s, Gap, Capital One, and every other major credit card from the banking system. Armed with all these credit cards in my wallet, I felt powerful. The sky was my limit. I shopped some of the biggest stores in New York City. The more I shopped the more I felt I needed clothes, shoes, lingerie, and handbags. A dress was needed for every occasion. I had clothes sitting in my closet with the tags still attached to them. Shopping at Victoria’s secret almost every month. My card got upgraded to VIP status because I shopped so much. I got my first Angel Credit card with all the rewards that came with it. I started getting free stuff from Victoria’s Secret, but I never left the store with only one item in my bag. #IGotSuckered.
One day, my best friend and I walked into a Prada store. The closest I had come to a Prada store prior to this experience was seeing it in a magazine. When we stepped inside the store, the security guard said, “Hello, ladies!” in his Dennis Haysbert voice. That voice meant we did not belong there. We walked in anyway, not knowing that the cheapest item in the store was a $600.00 pair of shoes that was on sale for $400.00. Needless to say that we left the store without buying anything.
A few months after I got married (in 2005), I moved to Georgia with my husband. He was the sole breadwinner. One faithful afternoon, I went to Target only to walk out of the store with nothing. I filled up my shopping cart and left the store with nothing. I realized that I was not working, and any money spent would be my husband’s. To tell you the truth, I was not ready to explain myself. I struggled with the idea of not having a job. Getting credit card bills after credit card bills in my mailbox was not helping the situation either. Some days I got on the internet, filled my cart with clothes, and repeat the same scenario that happened at Target. I finally drew myself a contract and promised myself that I would not shop for extra clothes, shoes, nor handbags until all my credit card bills were paid off. By the time I was done paying for my bills, we had a new addition to the family, my son was born; needless to say that getting high again was not an option.
Falling in love with something or someone is a beautiful thing, but when that thing becomes an obsession, it can be dangerous. I spent years trying to justify my shopping habits. Shopping made me happy. It filled a hole in me that I didn’t know existed.
I was spending money that was not mine and to me it was okay, because I never really knew the people whose money I was spending. But when it came time for me to use the money of someone that I loved, everything changed for the better. Now, most of the clothes that I wear on my Instagram Photos are from the thrift store, and I am okay with that. Why? Because I don’t thrift because I am broke. I thrift because I want to save money.
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