I grew up happily receiving (and wearing) clothes as gifts (hand-me-downs and brand new ones alike) from my parents and three older brothers. It made my life easy. I didn’t have to think of what clothes I should wear. I didn’t really care whether or not I’m in fashion, as long as what I’m wearing was comfortable, and doesn’t look ugly. Walking through malls in search of clothes exhausted me. The boutiques in the mall were the bane of my existence, and, despite my mom’s efforts, I made trips to the fitting room with a heavy heart.
I hated shopping. I still do.
But I realize that I should start putting some effort into my wardrobe. After all, wearable hand-me-downs from my brothers get fewer and fewer as my body shape became more different from theirs. And I can’t really rely too much on raiding my mom’s closet, especially when I’m about a good foot taller than her. (And she needs her clothes, too!) And, really, I can’t rely on other people for my clothes forever. I must, then, must face that which is called shopping for clothes.There is a time for everything. And the time for me to learn shopping is now.
But don’t get me wrong. I hate shopping, I still do.