Dispatches from a go-gettin journalist. Because not all Army wives live behind the lines...

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Weekends are meant for...

Earlier today, an email dropped into my inbox from one of my favorite clothing stores.

The subject line: "Weekends are meant for shopping."

The bougie, stiletto-loving, sweata weatha anticipating, fall-is-my-favorite-fashion-season part of me would say, "Preach on!!!"

But I'm resisting the urge to "hallelujah" the statement by instead making rather than spending money on the weekends. I've learned that I'm one of the lucky few in life that got the career I've wanted since I was in 6th grade. So to me, work is by no means work. I'm using that to my advantage.

You're probably thinking, WHAT? Working on the weekends? But if you know me, you know that I can't sleep in. I'm a doer. A MAJOR doer. I've got to go somewhere, do something, contribute -- all day, every day. So this makes the most sense to my motivated soul.

That's not to say that every so often, I do like to peek in and take a look at the shiny and new collections that are donning the shelves.

Last night, I learned that the concept of window shopping is a bunch of doo doo (not to be confused with a lot of fun, because I still love doing it). Truth: Window shopping leads to owning. Even though I didn't shop till I dropped at a nearby outdoor mall last night -- after all, we were there just to grab a bite -- I couldn't help but gently pull Superman to the direction of an accessory shop. Said accessory shop had a buy-one-get-one deal. It spoke right to my heart.

I know the blingy headband won't break the bank. But Superman knows full well it's a gateway drug to bigger, shinier things.

The skinny is, I'm a gullible victim of consumer marketing. If I'm not occupying my time by working, I'd probably swing by that lovely store (and about 12 others within the same vicinity) and shop until the leaves change color.

But I'm committed not to. I'm on a "diet," if you will. I know. I hate that word too, because it sounds so restrictive, and so yo-yo, and so all about food. And as a health journalist, I know that more often than not, diets don't work. For any reason.

Okay, so scratch that. I'm on a "discipline."

And the new weekend working routine has been great so far. In fact, eight (or sixteen straight) hours of working has taught me more about life than eight (or sixteen straight) hours worth of shtuff.

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