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, so I get it. Wanna know why? Because I can always RETURN it! Oh, Jen. Just get it, you can return it. But do I return it? Maybe. But you know what happens when I return a $9.00 V-neck T-shirt I just had to have? I go in and spend another $200.oo! Fuck you, Target. I can’t win. I can’t beat you at your own nasty game. You are the devil, and that’s why you wear red. #duh
And I get up to the register, and that little smiley-bitch says, “Would you like to get 5% off by using your Target Red Card today?” Really? 5% off of all this, and I point to my cart overflowing with shit I don’t need. And Zac is bitching about the games I wouldn’t buy him and Jonah’s giving me crap about the ten items I “really didn’t have to have”. Whatever, boys! Shut your pie holes! But I don’t want them to hear the total when she gives me the receipt. So I send them over to the baseball card aisle and tell them they can both choose ONE pack. Yes! A diversion–gotta do it. Because this one time, Zac actually ratted me out during “circle time” at school. He told the class how much his Mommy spent at Target. And his teacher called me. She did! She fucking called my ass up and said,”Mrs. Weintraub, I hear all kinds of dirty little secrets here at school. Today, Zac shared how he was SO concerned because his Mommy spent $897.00 at Target.” Fuck that kid. What a narc.
So now, they are not allowed to be anywhere near me when the bitch announces the total. And why the hell does she feel the need to yell it out anyway? Why can’t she just whisper it to me softly. Damn her. Unless of course, it’s under a hundred bucks! Then I think there should be a balloon drop!! YEEESS!! Or a big parade! Whoop whoop, PARTY IN CHECKOUT 3, Jennifer Weintraub spent under a HUNDO! Ya, that would be fucking stellar. Dammit all to hell.
Target is my addiction.
Hell, there are worse things. I don’t smoke crack. I drink wine, but jeez…big deal. I don’t vape, or gamble. Target is my vice. I’m trying to stay away, I am. Look, I haven’t been there in a week. Ok, I was there yesterday, but I needed some Tide. And a sports bra. Oh, and I might have had a lil bite in the cafe, but who doesn’t love that Pizza Hut pizza! Dammit, I’ll return the bra. But you know what happens when I return… 😉