I have an addiction.
I try to hide it.
Convince myself it’s a non-issue.
But the first step is admitting…
So, I’m here to tell the world. I know y’all are assuming it’s Starbucks. Or online shopping! Smoking in my garage when I’m alone or drinking too much wine? Fuck no. I wish. But my addiction is much bigger than all of those things combined. Hell, it’s bigger than ME. And it affects so many other women across our nation. I am not alone, others feel my pain; understand the demons I fight every, single day.
Other women between the ages of 32-55 to be exact.
You know I should save this material for my stand-up comedy routine, right?
I mean it’s that fucking funny.
And when I think about that day, back in November, when I found out the guy I was dating worked at TARGET I literally had an orgasm. Well, first I tried not to laugh in his face, then I got excited. My head was spinning, I had so many questions! First, I asked him if he had to wear a red shirt. Then, if he could make me my own name tag! Theeeennnn…I asked him,”Omg, do I get a discount?” He looked at me like I was nuts. But I wasn’t. I was as serious as a fucking heart attack. MY DREAMS WERE COMING TRUE. I was dating a guy that worked at TAR-JAY! It was like I won the lottery! Fuck it all. I could potentially get a 35% off Friends and Family discount at Target. #betterthansex
Say it with me…TARGET. My happy place. The store where the aisles may as well be paved in gold bricks. Call me Dorothy, cause it’s my fucking OZ. You think I’m cray? Well, if you’re heart rate goes up when you enter the glass doors under the big-ass bullseye, then you feel it, baby! You know exactly what I’m saying. This shit is real. And let me just tell you, they know what they are doing. Target does their research and they market for women like me. Stay-at-home Mommas between the ages of 30-45 that love a fancy-new package, and a flashy end-cap. You know that’s what it’s called? An “end-cap”. And they are my worst fucking enemy. Every aisle has one, all pretty and shiny…with all the new products. Just waiting to be plucked up! And do I need any of them? Nope.
Want vs. Need!
Target, you bad, bad boy. I want you. All of you. But do I need you? NOT ONE THING EVER! I don’t need a fucking beach towel! I have 30. But it’s new and cute! And do I neeeeddd a fur throw pillow for a couch I might have someday? Hell no. But I want it,