Posts Tagged ‘retail therapy’

Retail Therapy

January 25, 2015

I got me some.

And now, like a good therapy session, I am all tuckered out from the effort of being present and in my body.

A body that I still don’t always see that well and when I am thinking it’s a fat body, it’s time to stop the shopping.

Size eleven is not fat.

In case you were wondering.

“Why aren’t I a size ten?” My brain started questioning my blue jean choices, and when I go there I can go there quick.

I did pretty well before the blue jeans began to be too much and I had to call it a day.

I actually may have found a pair but I was too tired and starting to second guess myself.  I need to enlist a girl friend to go jean shopping.  I am not good on my own.  In fact, it was suggested to me that I either go future clothes shopping with a friend or enlist a salesperson.

That, helping customers fit into their clothes, is apparently one of their jobs.

Who knew.

I started off the shopping with a bang and a special treat for me.

I went to Chanel on Maiden Lane and bought my signature scent–Egoiste–I have not had it for the last month, having run out around my birthday.

I had some expectation that I might get perfume as a gift from someone, but uh, that didn’t happen.

And like the flowers I eventually bought myself, I bought myself perfume today.

I don’t have to wait for a partner to treat me well, not that my ex didn’t treat me well, he absolutely did, but there were things that I didn’t get myself for a moment when I had expectations around the holidays.

Expectation.

Leads to resentment.

Oh my yes.

And I can expect idiotic things too, I realize this all the time.

Like, oh, this is rich, I should be going to graduate school to get a literature degree or a Masters in Creative Writing.

Despite the fact that all the programs that I have applied to turned me down.

I still have this antiquated idea that I am supposed to be doing this thing where I write, make gang loads of money, and I don’t know do something with the English Literature degree I got as an undergraduate.

As though the benefits of studying have to pay off monetarily.

As if it wasn’t enough that it was through studying TS Eliot and Shakespeare, and yes, Tolkien, that I rediscovered God and went from being an atheist/agnostic, to believing in God.

Something that was very helpful to me when I got sober.

And continues to be helpful to me.

But no, I got that degree with the intention of becoming a writer.

Oh.

Wait.

I am a writer.

But, it doesn’t look like how I think it should look.

Neither do those jeans, but hey, you’re not fat either.

Aside.

Even after nearly five years of maintaining an over 80 pound weight loss, I still gravitate to the plus size clothes section and got excited when I walked into H & M and saw that they now have a plus size section.

Hey lady.

Snap out of it.

I am not a size 26 anymore.

I am a size 11.

Which is not the size 10 I eventually got down to, but wasn’t able to really sustain without restricting more than I should considering my energy levels, body type, and the amount of bicycling I do.

End aside.

I shared these thoughts around graduate school today with someone before heading out into the wilds of San Francisco shopping (which were wild, I had no idea that there was going to be a protest downtown or that the streets were torn up with construction projects).

I told her that I was beating myself up for applying to program that had nothing to do with my writing or my literature degree and that I was still holding out on the idea that I would be making it as a writer.

Famous.

Rich.

Worldly.

As though I am not already.

Famous in my own mind.

Rich in love.

Worldly in my travels and experiences.

The perspective is just different.

She laughed at me when it all finally came out, and pointed out to me how important words are to a therapist, the words behind the words, the language that is being spoken, the things that people say when they aren’t actually saying anything, how important that communication is and understanding of language are to a good therapist.

Well duh.

I had not seen it that way and I was astounded by how spot on she was.

Of course!

My gift for language will be used and used better than any of the silly fatuous fantasy I have of what it means to be a writer.

She also pointed out that I am not actually great at being isolated and that perhaps I don’t want to have a career that is so focused on being alone without distractions.

Another great point.

And then, the ringer, how much I can be of service.

She told me things that I don’t see often in myself because I have this idea of who I am that does not always match up to who I am.

I’m getting better at it.

I am.

And I was able to leave Tart to Tart with a smile on my face and be ready to tackle the shopping.

Which I did with gleeful abandon until I was done.

I actually did really well.

Two pairs of shoes, one pair of black leggings, new earrings, new makeup, new hair clips, a new skirt, a new sweater, a new bra, a tank top, a baseball jersey, and a new jean jacket.

Plus the perfume.

In total I shopped and bought at nine different stores and went into at least another six or seven others.

I went to Chanel, Macy’s, Nordstrom’s, Nordstrom Rack, H & M, Urban Outfitters, the Westfield Mall, Zara, Banana Republic, Gap, Anthropology, Claire’s, and Beauty Lands.

No wonder I am tuckered out.

I don’t do this very often and next time I do have to go with a girlfriend for some body perspective, but I can give myself a pat on the back for doing the deal and taking care of myself.

Even if I didn’t find the perfect jeans.

I still found what I need.

The metaphor for my life.

I may not get what I want.

But what I am given is always.

ALWAYS.

Beyond my wildest dreams.

 

OH MY GOD

February 8, 2014

Valentines Day is next Friday and I don’t have a boyfriend!

Like I care.

I have an appointment to get an hour and a half long massage.

I have not had a boyfriend to date that has ever given me an hour and a half long massage.

Now that I think of it I don’t think I have gotten a massage from a boyfriend in a really long time, I usually do the massaging.

I am good at it.

That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t like some work done on her shoulders.

Oh, yes, I do.

I just was using the foam back roller to work out the kinks from the week and I realized that I finally have that massage coming up.

The one that I was given as a gift in December for my birthday.

Yeah.

The therapist is good and booked up pretty far in advance and she was out of the country in Paris with her husband, so when she said, I can get you in, but it’s Valentine’s Day at 4:30 p.m., I said, of course I will take it!

I mean, what a nice gift to give oneself for Valentines Day.

Or any other day, as the case may be.

I also will book her immediately again upon walking in the door to her office because I was given a gift certificate to her for Christmas as well.

Hopefully I won’t have to wait until next Valentines Day to get it.

My shoulder is noticeably better and I am super grateful for that, I also have been using the foam roller and trying to take it easy.

Take it easy was the theme for today.

I did not ride my bike into work, the weather was just yuck, I took the train, and I ended up staying inside all day long.

My charge was getting over a cold and I didn’t think  a great idea to go frolicking about in the yick.  We took it chill and hung out and read stories and snuggled and sang.

Not a bad way to end my work week.

I have a full day tomorrow meeting with four different folks, two at Tart to Tart, one up at Starbux in Noe and another whom I was supposed to meet with tonight, but due to a death in the community was called away.

I saw his memorial in the Castro and my heart swelled.

I did not know him well, but my friend Shadrach had introduced us and I knew him to be a sweet, kind, generous man, who was well-known in the community and advocated for a lot of people.

I count myself as graced to have known him and I will always remember having dinner with him at Grubstake in the Polk Gulch with Shadrach and how he bought both our dinners and listened to our “dramas”.

I am lucky to know many good people, and I was reminded that it’s good to know me too.

As I plopped myself down tonight next to a new acquaintance and we caught up, sharing about the week and the wet and the work.

Added to the work of just taking care of my meetings with four different folks tomorrow and my commitment in the evening up in Noe Valley, I am going to attempt to do some clothes shopping.

My jeans went kaput.

That’s what happens when you ride a bicycle a lot.

Oh.

Another great advantage to riding that, soon to be mine all mine, scooter, I won’t be wearing out the crotch of my jeans from riding a bicycle saddle week in and week out.

There are commuter boy jeans but not commuter girl jeans.

And I am too much the woman to be able to squeeze my hips into a pair of guy commuter jeans, believe me, I have tried.

It’s almost as funny to see as to watch me try to get my bicycle calves into a pair of skinny jeans.

Some shopping on the morrow if I can squeeze it in.

I won’t be able to Sunday, assisting at the video shoot will take up the majority of my day, then off to Church and Market, then home again, home again to get ready for the week.

Sometimes my weekend is actually busier then my week.

Not always.

I do try to keep myself some spare time, I have been a lot more successful at that recently than I have ever before.

I know that’s the key to sustaining relationships, be they friendship, or other, is to have some wiggle room in my routine.

If I happen to not go shopping tomorrow because I get the opportunity to hang out with a friend or have an adventure, I will not be sorry for it.

Besides.

I have plenty of leggings to get me through another week of work.

My concern, actually, is only that I will need to be wearing jeans for the Motorcycle Safety Course, that and boots that cover my ankles.

Neither of those items are currently in my wardrobe.

Yup.

How can I even call myself a woman without a pair of jeans and some boots in my closet?

Just happens that way sometimes.

I don’t mind shopping, but it’s not high on my list of things I really want to do, it’s not a huge priority.

But if taking the course requires those two items, I will be going out and getting them.  I have the cash in my account and I know what I can afford to spend since I did my spending plan for February already.

I could also just hold off until next Friday.

I bet the stores will be dead and I will be a big bowl of jello after getting an hour and a half long massage, might be the best time ever to go shopping, when I am that relaxed and who goes shopping on Valentines Day anyhow?

Me that’s who.

I don’t have to be on a date to give myself some love.

I learned that a long time ago.

 

Enforced Retail Therapy

July 13, 2013

I got up today and was mellow, quiet, head full of peace.

Oh, thank you Jeebus, the writing I did last night worked.

I could care less about my job, the money, any of it, I had a quiet head and that was such a blessing I went about my morning with nary a care.

Just do the laundry, do the writing, drink some coffee, and log a little bit of time for the design firm sifting through e-mails and projects.

I only had a few things on my agenda today.

Pick up a package at FedEx and swing by Sugarlump to have an iced coffee with a lady, followed up by more getting what I need over at 2900 24th Street and then back to Graceland for a mellow evening in.

In between this I had some thoughts, maybe, just maybe, I would actually go buy that pair of jeans that I have been talking about getting since I decimated my last pair in Paris four months ago.

I got my package at FedEx–my playa boots–and walked leisurely over to 766 Valencia Street to chat with the guys at the bike shop about the saddle I ordered for my Burning Man bicycle, just a nice little heads up that I had a package coming in my name.

It’s nice to have a place to send stuff.

I popped into the design office, sorted through the junk mail, put the other mail on her desk and slit open the box.

Please let them fit.

They did!

And they are so cute I am tempted to not wear them at Burning Man.

The dust will kill them.

However, they were cheap enough that should I decide I must have another pair upon my return I can buy another pair.  The beautiful thing for me is that for the first time in seven years, yes, I am about to turn a Burning Man seven, I got myself a new pair of boots specifically for the event.  Something comfortable for three weeks of being on playa.

This year I feel like a lot of work is going to be waiting for me out there and I need to be prepared for it.  Socks, underpants, boots, baby wipes, tights, one utility belt, hats, sunglasses, sunblock, a parasol, and the little bit of gear I need to make my bike a comfortable ride.

I am finally seeing my importance in regards to self-care out there is the number one thing I can do for my enjoying the event.

I will be of service, that’s a huge point to me going, there’s a community that I get to help enjoy the event and I love that I am a little cog in the machine.

But to really do my job, I have to take care of my basics.

I also got a lovely message from a dear friend who has some extra bedding for me to take up to the event.

Rock on.

As I broke down the box to recycle I decided that I was going to go to Nordstrom’s Off The Rack and look for a pair of jeans.

It was time.

I stashed the boots in the office and went to the bike.

I hopped on, not trying to get anywhere too fast, there was a small voice I heard quite loudly that said, take it slow today, and I crossed Valencia street on foot pushing my bicycle across, rather than try to snake through the traffic.

I cut over at 14th then turned onto Bryant to hit the Trader Joes/Nordie’s/Pier One/Pete’s/Bed, Bath, Beyond block of stores.

There was a cop car screaming behind me and I pulled into the left lane to let it pass while another car almost cut me off getting out-of-the-way of the police car.

I noticed the guy sitting by the newspaper dispensers on 8th opening a bottle of Two Buck Chuck from Trader Joes with a wine key.

Clever that.

He spare changed me in a quiet voice but was quite intent on opening the bottle in his hands.

That reminds me, I want to stop at Trader Joes and grab a few things, my brain debated while I was walking my bicycle into the parking structure, which way do I want to go?

Left to the grocery store?

Right to the clothes store?

I was prompted to the right, my gut said go there, grocery store after.

Thank God I listened.

Had I been locked down in Trader Joes for an hour and a half I do not want to know what would have happened, 13 days abstinent on my food program, it might have been a challenge more than I could have taken.

As it was I meandered over to the Nordie’s, locked up my bike and went inside.

It was fairly quiet, not as many folks as I thought there would be and I felt like I must remember this time, so that if I had to shop there again I would do so during this hour, there was barely a person in the store.

I went through the racks looking, not seeing anything, taking my time poking around, they had just re-arranged everything, so I was getting a new look at the lay out when the music was interrupted and a woman’s voice came over the loud speakers.

“Attention Nordstrom’s shoppers, by direct order of the San Francisco police department the store is now on lock down.  No customers may leave or enter the store.  Please remain calm and stay away from all windows.”

What the fuck?

For a moment I thought, some dip ass is shop lifting and they are going to be winnowed out, there was a homeless cross-dresser in the women’s lingerie that I was pretty sure was stuffing tights down his/her baggy pants.

I ignored the announcement and went back to perusing the racks.

Wait.

Did it say, stay away from the windows?

I flinched back from a large pane glass window as another fleet of cop cars went screaming by.

What the hell?

Music interrupted again.

“Attention shoppers, please be aware that the Nordstrom’s Rack store is now on lock down by direction of the San Francisco police department.  We will alert you when you may leave the store.  Please stay away from the windows and do not panic.”

Ok.

Backing away from the windows and taking a haul of clothes to a dressing room to hide in.

I tweeted my status and was hit up by a few folks who let me know a gunman had fired at the Jewelry Center just around the corner.

Well, looks like I have all the time in the world to try on pants.

Again, thank God I did not go grab my snack first.

By the time I had gone through all the pants, yes, I did find a pair, the store was finally allowed to release the shoppers.

I paid for my jeans, a few new pairs of panties, and a new tank top, stuffed it all in my bag and walked out over to Trader Joes.

It was like the zombie apocalypse.

There was no one there.

No cars in the lot.

No customers in line.

I zoomed in and out in three minutes.

Hopped on my bike and headed through the worst traffic I have seen in the SOMA.

Grateful for my bicycle today.

Grateful for the retail therapy.

Grateful I did not get shot.

It really is nice to be alive.

With a new pair of jeans to be alive in.

Popped My Cherry!†

January 3, 2012

Yes.

It finally happened.  I sold my first bike.  And I did not have a bicycle stolen in the process.  And I also held my tongue.  There was another unlocked bike on the rack tonight when I brought the bikes in.

It was not a bike I had unlocked, so I don’t know who it was, but I felt like, you know what, it’s been a good day, let sleeping dogs lie.  And it was a good day.  I felt like I got a lot accomplished at work, aside from selling my first bike, and I felt like I was of service.

I also could not believe some of the stuff coming out of my mouth.  Who knew I knew all this stuff?

I thought later on that it was partially because the GM was not there, I felt comfortable, I did not feel pressured and there were plenty of co-workers around that I did feel good interacting with.  When I had a question, and I did have a few, I was able to connect with a person in the shop and address it.

I walked the girl through everything and she pulled the trigger on a $1400 bike!  Almost twice what our standard bike goes out the door for.  It was so satisfying.  I had a huge grin on my face for hours.

Then, I did it again!  But this time the bike I “sold” was to myself.  I have been dreaming up my bike now for months.  And as it is officially January, ie, tax season, I knew I was ready to go ahead with it.  Besides I feel like it’s time for me to get on one of the machines I help to sell.

I have been holding off, partially because I have a deal with myself that any item that I want to buy I wait one week for every hundred dollars it will cost.  This gives me time to not make a rash decision, ‘cuz sometimes retail therapy it feels oh so good, and it allows me room to navigate my finances.

I usually get a tattoo with the tax man’s money.  But this feels really right.

Want to know what I am getting?

Sure you do!

56 cm frame painted in RAL 5011, very dark navy blue, with a top coat of, wait for it, Rock Star Sparkle!  Giggling with glee. Would also be clapping hands, but said hands are typing.  Rear wheel is a Velocity B43 in, oh my god, clap for me, “popsicle purple”!  Which is actually a discontinued color, but the head mechanic got a hold the guys we get our wheels through, and check it out, it must be fate, they have one left in stock!

Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.

Ahem.

The Velocity B43’s are sick, sick, sick, deep rims, and I am going to run this in the rear so it will be a heavy splash of color and it will be NMSW.  Translation: non-machine side wall, which means, there is no braking surface, which means, huge, gigantic wheel of color.  Black spokes and black hub.

In case you were wondering, also, free wheel one speed.  My ride is going to be light as a feather, about  20 lbs.  The one speeds weigh in about 19 1/2 lbs, but my back tire will be a little heavier since it’s the B43.

Next, a Sugino crank, also black.  An Izumi chain, also black.  MKS pedals, black, with Hold Fast toe “cages” (not really a cage but a thick piece of velcro fabric that works like a cage, but doesn’t have the cage look or feel) in black and purple.

The front wheel will be a Velocity Deep V in silver with a machine side wall for braking.  This will be my first bike with only one brake.  Slightly nervous, but everyone in the shop swears I only need one and I tend to believe them, eight other people running one brake on the front, equals me being comfortable with the idea of trying something new.

Next, oh, pause for sexy breath, a pair of drop handle bars.  But not just any drop bar, this one is the Super Velodrama drop bar from Soma.  Which translates to this amazingly gorgeous wicked sexy drop pair with an enlarged swoop design–in black.

Sickness.

I found out today that I was not relegated to the shop parts, I could get really creative and find other bars and components and I did just that.  The head mechanic recommended the Soma bars and there they were peeping at me, batting their eyelashes, saying you know you want me.

Yes, yes I do.

The head set is an IRD Technoglide in, yes purple!  Nice little pop of color on the front to balance out the back wheel.

And to “top” of my ride a  Fi’zik saddle in black–the Arione Donna K:ium 2012-which is a female centric saddle in a racing form with, yes, I am a girl, black leather, with flower cutouts in the leather.  I will be super gluing a ball bearing into the stem of the bike to prevent some one stealing my saddle.  I can tell you that right now.

I am really psyched.  Can you tell?

Clap your hands with me.

Delusional with excitement.

Now about the only thing that could top that is a room.

But I feel like that is getting closer.  I do.  I do.  Perhaps it is that the stress of the holidays is ending and life is getting into a normal groove.  Or maybe I am getting used to moving around.

Or I am still high from having sold Becky her bike today.  Her name is Beck and she is adorable and her boyfriend bought her the bike for her birthday.  Good boyfriend!

Regardless, it is nice to feel a little less freaked out then I did yesterday.  It helps too, to get good reports back on the cats on their spa vacation in Berkeley.  They are in a good home and that makes mama feel better.

I am also in a good home and grateful for it.

Which reminds me, I need to send lady Robyn a big thank you card and some flowers. I may do that in person, as I still have stuff at her place.  Wouldn’t it be nice to go back to her house bouquet in hand with the news that I found a place?

I think it would.

Here’s to that scenario.

And a brand new bike for a brand new year.


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