Certainly there was a catalyst, the event that precipitated the drastic, for me, inconceivable idea of giving up my favorite past-time, friend, hobby, passion-- shopping.

We were getting new carpet before Christmas. Which sounds lovely until you have to go through the effort of packing up all your possessions and removing them from the carpeted space. It was then that I believe I coined the term: ABUN-DISGUST.

I am a purger. Not a bulimic. But as a self-identified shopaholic I understand that given the restrictions of a reasonable 2400-square-foot-home, I have to constantly edit out items because new items are constantly coming in. And given that Christmas was around the corner, I knew now more than ever this sweep through for Goodwill had to be brutal.

My five-year-old daughter easily parted with 75% of last year's Christmas haul. Dozens of tiny sparkly dogs with fur tales, princesses with clip-on dresses, big eyed stuffed animals who had lost their allure were tossed in to a white trash bag. My seven-year-old son, begrudgingly and laboriously let go of some games he hadn't really taken to, but he is far more sentimental than my daughter and a collector of fossils, cards, coins, and Star Wars paraphernalia, and thus, less progress was made.

I share a very small closet with my husband. He has two small rods for hanging items and I have three. I tried to edit out as I do so often, but honestly, truly, there was nothing more to do. The items were new and newish. I do this run through so often trying to make space for the latest Nordstrom Rack run or J. Crew sale score, the closet was full of lovable, wearable, on-trend and classic items. Full.

Abun-disgust.

Christmas morning my husband gave me his usual speech about needing to go smaller next year and how I'd overdone once again. Overdoing it is a theme in my life. As a friend of mine recently said, "I know balance, I see it every time I swing past it."

Two days later I hit the mall to make a few exchanges. I had no intention of walking into White House Black Market, but I saw a sign that said 40% off sale, and I felt the magnetic pull only true retail junkies know. $150 dollars later, I still felt tormented about the $98 full-price jeans I'd chosen to forgo for the time being. Certainly they'd go down, I just had to wait it out. I could stock them online, wait for the sale, then POUNCE. Also, I had to admit it, I was broke. I had to reel it in. Wait for payday. I carried my over-sized bag into the house a little embarrassed. It's not the spending of money that bothers my husband. I have a budget, and I more or less handle that, its the insatiability that really annoys him. Shopping two-days after Christmas is kinda like needing to stop for snack after a nice meal out at a fancy restaurant. It begs the question, REALLY? MORE

I'd staked claim to New Years day shopping for months having had amazing success at the annual Dillards New Year's Day sale the previous year. I wrote myself out on the family calendar so I could savor the day, alone. For the uninformed, on New Year's Day ONLY Dillard's drops the price of all their sale merchandise by 50%. January 2nd, it's back to the regular sale price. This sale is not for the casual shopper. To try on shoes for example, one must pull a piece of a paper, find a pen, write the codes down of shoes which are marked on the bottoms and the size they'd like to try of up to five pair and then wait in a line of 30 to 50 people to try on shoes. Need a different size? Back to the line for you! Which is what I did three days ago to score some Ugg sneakers for $40 dollars and a pair of Born blue slides for the same price. They didn't have the Freebird boots I wanted in my size, or several of the other pair, but it was successful nonetheless.

Why? Why go through the hassle and fight the crowds to save a hundred bucks on shoes I don't need. (For the sake of journalism I counted my shoes last night. I have 33 pair, and that's only counting on-season fall/winter shoes. My others are boxed up due to previously explained size constraint of closet. And here's the kicker, only one pair in that whole collection is more than 5 years old.)

Because getting the shoes gets my high. Getting the shoes for a really good deal gets me really high.

And the part of my brain that still tries to justify addictions screams, THIS IS ALL I HAVE LEFT. I quit drinking, using drugs, smoking cigarettes, we can afford it right now, I'm not hurting anyone, can't I just have this? This voice is sometimes called Queen Baby. Whaaaaaaaa

Sure? Have at it, I can say. But here's the problem and the why of the challenge: what of it? The truth is, this shopping thing is getting in my way. Its wasting time that my real self wants to be spending editing my book, writing new stuff, cooking, and maybe just, being.

And, okay, I'm not going to lie, In all my exuberance, I've depleted a bit of my personal savings over the holidays. I want to see if I can get back to where it was during this shopping sabbatical.

Inspired by a friend who was all-in on a year, I read Ann Patchette's "My Year of No Shopping" essay in The New York Times. It was inconceivable to me. What about vacations? The changing of seasons? the Nordstrom's Anniversary Sale? Black Friday? Christmas? I had to sit down.

I came up with my own commitment. And it felt huge.

6 months, with the following rules:

No purchase for self or family of anything to wear until July 4th. (Excluding kids birthday gifts, April 17th/ May 11th)

No purchasing of cosmetics/hair products unless/until I run out of what I have.

No home goods purchases unless deemed a NEED by both husband and me. (That pretty much means throw pillows are out) 

Stay out of Target until June 4th. 

Grocery store/Costco okay, provided I'm not breaking other rules.

Gifts for birthdays okay. 

So day 1, 11:00 a.m., I've tackled the nagging task of "making my website" and written my first blog post in over eight years. So far, challenge working. But then, hour three of a diet always seems to going well too, doesn't it?

Let me know if you want to join the challenge. 🙂