Confessions Of A Shopaholic Novels & Stories

Zainab—the shopaholic— grinned, clasping her hands together in excitement. "Really now?" Saudah snickered, glaring at Zainab. "I don't think your husband would allow you near any boutique ever again, you'll soon run him bankrupt." Zainab spluttered, her fair skin turning pink with embarrassment. She knew that she was a serious shopaholic but so were they, a woman according to her deserved all the pampering in the world, considering all the sacrifices she made the moment she hit puberty. "Da'aki anha ya Zainab,"• Juwairiya smiled, joining the ladies in their laughter. "You deserve all the money Abu Bahaiya can give you."

Looking at myself in the mirror, I see a beautiful confident young woman, Since I came to (California) San Francisco, I have developed some sort of confidence I don't even know where it comes from. I guess it is because of the promise I made to myself not to ever be weak. Lena and I decided to visit a shopping mall before we got some coffee When we entered the shop Lena hurriedly drugged me to an exclusive shop where they sell dresses. There were so many dresses in this shop

She burst out like a lava but continued. “At last, I called Marcus who suggested this Jewellery showroom. It was my first time at this luxurious shop and I was clueless. I called Marcus again but he didn't accept the call so I asked the salesman to suggest something. I didn't recall any other instructions that you gave me except for the gift being expensive so I bought the most expensive thing there! What did I do wrong in that?" She sniffed, tears kept rolling down her cheeks but she didn't stop speaking. Aaron sharpened his eyes and kept staring at her with anger-filled eyes. "Then you came here and started accusing me as if I had committed a horrendous crime!"

He offers insultingly low prices, knowing how desperate I was. “So do you agree or not?” He asked. I didn't have a choice but to accept. “Fine! Just give me the money.” I said with sadness tugged in my chest. The shop owner smiled and As the transaction proceeds, others came into the shop and I tried to hide my face. “Hey everyone look over here, it's the corrupt politician's son-in-law selling his fancy clothes.” The shop owner suddenly annouced and I froze in shock. The other customers began laughing and taking photos with their phones. I stood there with my head buried and burning with shame as strangers mock my downfall publicly.

Libby Gretchen loved shopping. She loved the perfumed, air conditioned mall. She basked in the attention of the sales staff and pawed over different fabrics and textures. She would try on new boots and hats, get a free make-over and then head to the spa for a manicure. The garments she brought home would often never be worn or maybe worn once. She was a shop-a-holic. It was a compulsion to her. She would rather eat porridge for a whole month so she would have more money to shop than eat a proper diet. Of course, now money was no concern for her and as the time had passed she only loved shopping at the best boutiques. But the same could not be said for her only daughter.

She declared excitedly. I finally tapped into her excitement, deciding there was nothing to lose, especially since she remained adamant about paying for them. We walked out of Pandora and into her hot pink Porsche. "Next stop, shoes and dresses!" She proclaimed, shifting gears and speeding out of the driveway. By the time we finished shopping for our respective gowns, I was parched and tired. Alice was a certified shopaholic. She was specifically those kind of multiple track minded people that would enter a store for a charger and end up coming out with two teddy bears, a cute water bottle, a fancy water dispenser, electric brush and a spork.

It’s the arrogance, the little air of superiority, the way they think they’ve evaded the consequences of their actions which makes them predictable. The shopping mall was upscale, the kind of place where people with more money than sense liked to browse, trying on overpriced shoes they couldn’t afford, pretending they had a life worth watching. Trina was no different; blonde hair, too much makeup, heels that screamed, I’m important. As I followed her through the aisles, a chuckle bubbled up in my throat. If only she knew who was trailing her.

“Your son? After days of silence? After you left him sick and crying, begging for you to come back? Do you have any idea what he’s been through?!” Shopia didn’t defend herself. Every word was true. But she couldn’t explain—not all of it. “I’m not here to argue. I just want to be with Joe right now.” Vivian scoffed, eyeing her from head to toe. “That bag… is it a Hermès?” Shopia flinched, instinctively clutching the luxury bag hanging on her arm. Vivian walked up to her, touching the material as if to confirm it. “You left your bankrupt husband and child… and ran into the arms of a rich man? Is this your idea of survival?”