Stores That Overwhelm Me

I hate making decisions. I hate choosing where to go for dinner, what movie to watch, what T-shirt to wear, etc. Makes it hard to live with me. (Just ask my husband.) But sometimes I’m faced with so many decisions, I just lie down on the floor and pull a rug over my head. This usually happens at one of the following stores:

Sephora—This mecca of beauty stores is so overwhelming, I need a shot of tequila just to walk in the door. Instantly, I’m pounced on by heavily made-up “ladies” trying to decide if they can “fix” my face or if it’s too late to repair. I don’t know which phrase is worse. “Yes, I can improve your skin’s texture, tone and taste–but it’s gonna cost you a LOOOOOT of money.” (Insert evil laugh.) Or “I really think what you’re already doing is the best it’s gonna get. Maybe come back when they invent the Sephora Time Machine.”

At some point during my visit to Sephora, I break out in hives. But that’s okay, because there are hundreds of products to cure, or cover, the offending rash.

sephora(And this is just the orange colors!! Of one brand. On one aisle.)

Quilted Bear–This Utah-only shop is the largest craft store in the galaxy. Vendors try to out-decorate their booths, competing against women who grew up embroidering tablecloths, making furniture from grapevines and landscaping their Barbie’s townhouse. When I have the urge to walk through The Quilted Bear, I’ve devised a plan. I hit the deli for a soup bowl, the fudge display (for free fudge) and then I get the hell out before the Ghost of Better Homes & Gardens Past comes to hem my skirt and braid my hair.

quilted(Picture this booth. Times 10,000)

Costco–With the big families in Utah (and I mean “big” in every sense), a bulk shopping center makes sense. However, for those of us who feed two (occasionally three) people and a dog, a tub o’ mayonnaise seems unnecessary. Unless I get a job as a fry cook for the U.S. Marine Corps, I don’t imagine I’ll ever buy 50 lbs. of baking soda, a 40 lb. wheel of cheese or a quadruple case of laxatives. Although looking at all that stuff makes me crap my pants.

costco(Big aisles for big people.)

TJ Maxx –This is one store I visit on a monthly basis, but I need to brace myself each time. There are GREAT deals at TJ Maxx. The problem is looking through the thousands of NOT GREAT deals to find the good stuff. Some days, I walk in–and walk right out–not ready to delve into tons of clothing and shoes. Other days, I plan ahead, stock up with trail mix, plug in my iPod and search the racks thoroughly.

purse(And these are just the handbags!!)

Barnes & Noble—Once I enter B&N, I get heart palpitations. Because I’ve made it a life goal to read every book ever written, seeing the shelves and shelves of books is a little discouraging. But, just like eating an entire cherry pie, I take it one bite at a time.

One Fruitcake Away From a Christmas Meltdown


(Fruitcake: The ultimate Christmas deception. Looks good. Tastes like s***.)

Maybe you haven’t heard, but tomorrow is Christmas. The day when high expectations are smashed against the fiscal cliff. The day when children cry because they didn’t get the RIGHT Barbie doll or video game. (Greedy bastards.)

We dash through the month, doing our shopping, busting our budgets, eating our weight in fudge and toffee, all in preparation for this ONE day of cheer and goodwill. Messed up if you ask me. (But nobody asks me.)

Here are the reasons I’m one fruitcake away from a Christmas meltdown:

  • I think my shopping is done, only to realize (on Christmas Eve), that I forgot my a) co-workers, b) neighbors, c) pets, d) relatives I haven’t seen in years but will be seeing tomorrow. I start sobbing in my egg nog.
  • I worry that everyone will think I’m cheap (which I am) and get me crap next year.
  • I’m so sick of eating chocolate (and that NEVER happens) that if I stuff ONE MORE Hershey’s kiss into my face, my teeth will fall out. And I know I still have to get through tomorrow’s choco-fest.
  • If I hear one more version of “Deck the Halls”, I’m going to start decking people.
  • I remember I didn’t send ONE Christmas card. I bought a box of cards last January on clearance, and they’re still sitting (unopened) with my Christmas supplies.
  • I discover (on Christmas eve around 11 p.m.) I don’t have enough tape to wrap any more presents. My options are a) use duct tape, b) use the stapler or c) say Santa ran out of paper somewhere over France.

present(Shut up! Open the present, already. It’s the thought that counts.)

  • Knowing that on Dec. 26, I’ll vow to start Christmas shopping in January–and knowing that I never will.

If possible, have a Merry Christmas.