Hi, my name is Jenna, and I’m a shopaholic.
I love to work, so I can earn money, so I can spend the money.
I wish I were kidding. It’s become a serious problem.
It used to just be clothes, but it’s grown significantly.
I don’t just buy clothes; I buy books, drinks, and snacks. I’m not a shopaholic, I’m a spend-aholic.
I feel like I can work all I want or try to save money all I want, and still, somehow, my bank account never looks the way it should.
It’s like my money has legs. The second it hits my account, it’s already halfway out the door.
I’ll open my banking app just to “check,” and suddenly I’m spiraling,
Wait… when did I spend $42?
Oh. Right. A quick coffee run that turned into a drink, a snack, and “well, I’m here so…”
That’s how it always starts.
It’s never just one thing.
I tell myself I deserve it.
“I worked all day.”
“I’ve been stressed.”
“It’s just this one time.”
“Just a little pick me up.”
“I need a sweet treat.”
But it’s never just one time.
It’s the late-night scrolling, convincing myself I need something I didn’t even know existed five minutes ago.
It’s the little rush when I hit “checkout.”
It’s the packages showing up and me acting surprised like I didn’t track them obsessively for three days straight.
And the worst part?
Half the time, I don’t even use what I buy.
The clothes sit in my closet, making an appearance maybe once a month, once a year, maybe even still have the tags on them.
The books stack up on my shelf, mostly read, but the unread ones remain unread because I just buy more and read the new ones first.
The snacks? Okay… those don’t last. Let’s be honest.
But still, the feeling fades fast.
That excitement I get when I buy something? It disappears almost as quickly as my money does.
And then it’s just… guilt.
Guilt and me saying,
“Okay. I’m done. I’m saving now.”
Until the next “small purchase” turns into five.
I don’t think it’s really about the stuff, though.
I think it’s the feeling.
The control. The reward. The distraction.
Because for a moment, when I’m buying something, everything feels handled.
Like I’m doing something for myself.
But then reality hits, and my bank account is like,
“Girl… be serious.”
And I sit there, staring at the number, wondering how I work so much but have so little to show for it.
So yeah.
Hi, my name is Jenna…
…and I might actually need to start budgeting.