Who Needs The Gym When You Can Shop?

Since I was young, my mom has always joked that I better marry rich, The OG Jewish American Princess (JAP), my mom knows how to shop for days. I have always made fun of her, saying that I could never be that vain – that I know the value of money, etc. Well, let this be my confession – I fear I have become first world spoiled – and I want more.

Yesterday, I looked in the mirror and realized that I finally have the body of a woman and not a pre-Bat Mitzvah pubescent. Unfortunately, that means my tiny boobs becoming almost Cs (let’s be honest – they’re still Bs) has also been accompanied by 10x more fat being deposited elsewhere. And yes, weight is just a number, but 15 pounds on a 5’ frame is a lot and I will never resort to lipo. Ew.

Anyways, excited about the prospect of a hot summer bod, I raced to Athleta – the better version of Lululemon, in my opinion. Shanice, the saleswoman, and I became fast friends.

Each time I came out of the dressing room, I peered around trying to get her eye contact and approval. “I don’t think this fits me right – I’ve got this armpit fat here, you know what I’m talking about? I hate that” I complained to her. The ever amazing Shanice, my spirit animal, replied back, “Girl, don’t I know it! Mhm!” (Not that race matters, but I know you were all wondering, and yes she’s sassy and black). Needless to say, I left the store with two full bags and a new credit card. Although in my defense, I got a discount with my new credit card; so I’m really being responsible, right?

I raced home, put on my new outfit and pumped myself up about going to work out. But it was already 1 PM so I convinced myself that I should get lunch first. I mean – a girl has got to eat her 6 meals a day, you know? I get really cranky when I’m angry and if I’m cranky I am not working out. So I went to the ritzy downtown nearby my parent’s house and got myself some chicken fajitas (tacos are so 2016). I even opted out of my usual marg and got a water glass – clearly I was slaying this weight loss thing. I’m so proud.

Belly full, I hopped on out of the restaurant and thought to myself, “Don’t all those ladies lose weight walking and shit? I should do that. Then I can become skinny and keep shopping!” Pleased with my own logic, I walked all the way up and down the street stopping at each store. I pretended I was wearing a fit bit – I should definitely buy one of those – and was confident that my excursion was productive. Nothing makes me happier than my favorite store  where the ladies all coo and give you champagne while you try on clothes. I feel like royalty there – let’s face it I’m pretty much royalty everywhere.

Exhausted from my full lap (walking is way harder than it looks) and confident with my new clothes, I skipped to my car and drove home to nap (you burn more calories sleeping than watching Netflix so I made the right choice). And yes, while I maxxed out my credit card from my heavy spending, I just got another one. No biggie. They give them out like beer at a frat party, and just like beer at a frat party you don’t know you’ve been roofied until it’s too late.

Anyway, I know I probably didn’t lose any weight today. But hey – if I’m going to look like this, I better have hot clothes right? Isn’t that what all this female empowerment and “love the skin you’re in” movement is all about? Psht, and it’s not like I need to work that hard. I’m pretty enough to marry rich and have like 10 children and be one of those moms that sits around and bitches to other moms with her wine filled 24-7 #goals – but that’s a conversation for another post.

Hugs and Kisses,
Katarina

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