I have a big problem. It’s called buyer’s remorse, and I can’t seem to shake it. Believe it or not, I’m not a big shopper. If I had unlimited funds at my disposal, I would totally hire a personal shopper to outfit me and my family and to adorn my home. To do without the crowds, clutter, and artificial lighting of the mall would make me a happy girl. But that’s beside the point.

So, here’s the story. I set off for the mall yesterday with Carson for no particular reason. Really, it was just too hot and humid outside for us to stroll through our neighborhood, so I thought that I would take advantage of the AC at the mall and allow Carson to take in the sights and sounds of American consumerism at its best. Well, as luck would have it, as I meandered into the Gap, I stumbled across a great find– cute, wide legged dress pants in just my size– and on the sale rack, no less!! Knowing that I could use another pair of dressy pants, I snagged them without thinking twice… but then it occurred to me that I had nothing to go with them, so onto Old Navy I went. One more sale rack and two more shirts later, I was quite pleased with my new outfit.

But then it hit me. The guilt. The shame. The immediate inclination to hide my shopping bags and receipts from Matt. Why? I do not know. First off, Matt is a rare breed of husband in that he encourages me to shop for myself. I think he feels little risk in doing this because he knows that I am not one to go and blow big bucks on myself. Secondly, I spent a total of like 25 bucks on the entire outfit. Seriously, Matt might be starting seminary soon, but we’re not that impoverished. So why the remorse? I probably have some psychological issue that I could probably pinpoint if I dug deep enough into the DSM-IV, but for the time being I think I’ll just steer clear from the mall for another week or two.