If I Was An Arab, I Would Buy Sand

Yes, I have fallen for marketing. And I'm ready to embrace it. These are tough years, times are hard, and friends are few, and yet I feel the need to internet window shop. Something that never really bothered me, and was something to pass the time when I should be doing more important things. And I hadn't bought anything for about four months. Which, for me, is good.

So, I find myself browsing a well known online store and I see some shoes that I like. A nice pair of Vans, which I already have, but have a hole and well passed their best. They're in the sale, so I buy them. Quite pleased with myself until they arrive. And the bastards at this well known online store have enclosed a free gift. Fake tan. Gradual fake tan dressed up as a moisturiser, but fake tan none the less. I would never actively buy this, or even pay it a passing glance. I'm pale and I will stay that way until I burn and shrivel on holiday. It's nothing that a chemical peel and vast botox can't fix in later life.

Anyhoo, the problem with free gifts is that I become indebted to the company, in an emotional way. It's not logical in any way and I understand how it's meant to work. All too well. So then I want to shop more. Which is why they are utter bastards.

Fast forward to this morning, at 8am, I'm tired and cranky and in need of a bit of a kick start. So I go onto facebook, have a nosey, and spot an advertisement for Calvin Klein underwear. So off I pop then to well known online store, and I see underwear. And in a moment of weakness, I buy some. I don't need it, at all, but I've convinced myself that I do. And more pathetically in a split second I genuinely believed that Calvin Klein and well known online store could do, in less than 24 hours, what I and the collective powers of the NHS, WW, and my entire family, their willpower and offers of vast cash rewards, could not. They could give me the body of a model.

I'm ashamed. Deeply ashamed. But it's not the worst part. The worst part is that one pair of the lovely Steel Underwear, costs £20. I bought five.

That still isn't all. I continued adding things to my basket like Helen Keller at an eyesight shop. I bought a further seven pairs of underwear, due to marketing. Now I am ashamed at this. But quite frankly, I don't care.

They sold me a dream. I could not care less if they don't do what they imply on the tin. In the words of ABBA, I have a dream. They helpfully fullfilled it for much less than a therapist would charge and that is wonderful. And I shall tell you why- because it is. Confidence is a state of mind, so if I feel confident, then I am. And that, would save the NHS millions, it would reignite the need to shop, save the global economy and we all wouldn't be sweating about the bloody Credit Crunch as if we were pregnant nuns! So stop bloody moaning and start shopping, you'll feel much better and you'll be saving the world economy.



P.S.

"Fashion Smashion" was written for the Uni paper, and not for here, which I felt the need to point out.

Toodles.