OCness
Because my brother didn’t have time to bring me home, I had to go with him to the office and ask to be dropped at the mall instead. Initially going to the mall without any money, I ended up buying stuff which I swore I’d never buy. It’s ironic why they call shopping an addiction when it’s also a therapy in the first place. But then, all drugs are "therapeutic" anyway, aren’t they?
One thing I dislike most about myself is that I am OC. I went to a shop at the mall this afternoon and tried on a top. Then I tried different sizes and colors of the same top. The price was hell cheap, but somehow I felt that it wasn’t the "right time" to buy the top. So I left.
Then I came back, deciding to buy the top. Then I tried everything again. Then I felt that the merchandise in that store was magulo, might try another branch at the other end of the mall, where the clothes are more organized.
So I went to branch #2 and tried the tops again. They didn’t have the colors I wanted which were in branch #1. Plus I also realized that the fabric as too manipis. So I decided to try on a pair or culottes (pardon the mispelled French).
Luckily all the culottes were in one style, in one size, which was my size. They had two colors, I decided to go for the lighter one. Then I went to the rack, pulled out all of the same (particular) cullotes. I looked for one with the least damage. None had any. But the pair which I tried on, which fitted perfectly, had some thread sticking out. The next pair had no threads sticking out but had a teeny unsewn pocket corner. The third pair was perfect! No threads, no ugly corners. I ttied them on, but somehow I didn’t think the crease on my crotch were as perfect as the first one I tried on. So I tried culottes #1 again and decided to buy them, although a little disappointed that I’m going home with a pair with threads sticking out.
And because of that I wasn’t able to run my errands and I ended up going home late. All because I was too obsessive-compulsive. Yes, I’m one of the weird people who would try a pair of shoes or a shirt, afterwards decide on which to buy, and request the saleslady for "new merchandise." I’m also the girl who gets the baby cologne or cereal box from the insides of the shelves because I don’t want to get the ones infront because I want my stuff to be "untouched by customer hands."
Oh. And I’m the one who writes a love (or hurt) e-mail and rereads and revises them again and again before I send them. I’m the one who contemplates too hard on whether to put a smiley at the end of a text message or not, and spends as much time deciphering whether the text sender has his own reasons for including/excluding his own smileys as well. It’s funny why I’ve always ranted to my friends that I don’t have any spontaneous guy friends (whom I can abruptly invite to go out in case my girl friends aren’t available), when I’m the anti-thesis of spontaneity in the first place. Yes, I always need to be at the left side of anyone when walking, I always have to sit on a restaurant with my back against the sun, and I never go anywhere without a hanky. Oo. Alam ko. Tatanda akong dalaga. Dahil OC ako, naforesee ko na yon. At naka-plano na lahat sa buhay ko ngayon.
I think my life will be simpler if I had been less OC. As my dad keeps on saying, "People don’t really care." And yeah, I didn’t buy the top anymore.
