Transference and the case against tennis racquets

I kinda need to buy something. Anything. It’s just over two weeks in and, to be honest, I’m struggling.

I was playing tennis for the first time in about five years the weekend before last with a tennis racquet kindly donated by friends who are out of the country for a while. We have a set of free tennis courts a few minutes walk from the flat and were surprised at indeed how wholesome and fun tennis can be. I would indeed like to play tennis more often.

And so I thought, I surely must purchase my very own tennis racquet now.

Not two hours after returning to my flat after a long session of playing something that might at first glance look like tennis, but on closer inspection was two people desperately trying to ‘keep the ball alive’, I was online looking at tennis racquets. Some of these racquets, dear friends, were reduced by around 75 per cent. Now that is a bargain.

This detox is officially limited to things to wear. However, it will mean nothing if by the end of my two months I have accrued a litany of tennis racquets, placemats and quirky orange juicers. It’d be like trying to kick heroin by taking up crack. But oh, for that sweet rush of exchanging money for superfluous goods.

Truth be told Mavis, I don’t need any of this diversionary stuff. Particularly when I’ve only played tennis twice now in the last five years. And I couldn’t be arsed juicing oranges every day.

And so I have expanded this detox into avoiding purchasing things which are clearly a substitute for the mild but addictive rush of buying my banned items. Does my commitment know no bounds?

The enabler

In essence, I blame everything on Trixie .

You see, the good woman Trixie was the one who first prompted this detox. She suggested that perhaps she was shopping too much and I thought, you are indeed on to something sister. Let us unite and support each other through a rather arbitrary, but no less, difficult and challenging task of not shopping for things to wear for a month. I then upped the ante, but Trixie did not follow.

Oh, indeed, Trixie did not follow.

She has remained true – so far as I know – to the task.  I am led to believe that she has refrained from fashion-based purchases. But she has felt the need to test me. Yesterday I received an email from the good woman with this subject line:

Your invitation: Private designer sample sale

Yes, dear readers. Temptation has a name and that name is Trixie.

It promised everything I  hold dear:  Discounts.

And yet I remained strong, dear readers. That I did – although I must say it did help that the images were corrupted and I was unable to read anything other than the subject line.

The last purchase

I’m going to have to be honest. This detox started on Monday. On Tuesday, I received a dress in the post.

I present it to you.

This is something I’ve come to very much enjoy. My work day broken up by the arrival of something I’ve bought, almost like a little present. Wrapped up, paraded through the office as though a glass slipper looking for its rightful owner. Oh, the lovely self-trickery of opening it as though you’re not quite sure what’s inside. It’s a little thrill I can schedule for myself by just the slightest diversion of attention at work, the briefest pause on eBay.

As a result, I have as of yesterday also decided to challenge myself to not look at any shopping websites, or sites which primarily encourage shopping, for a week. Cold turkey, I tell ya. By habit or accident or lack of will, I’ve already failed. So I start again today.

Anyway, this dress is the last thing. It was one of five dresses I bought in the first two months of this year – and February is a short month.