Hey, big spender

If you've watched What Not to Wear more than a handful of times, you've probably seen one of the episodes featuring the dreaded bargain shopper. You know the one, the girl who makes it through the ambush, accepts the $5000 and the trip to New York, and then can't bring herself to buy $400 jackets and $200 jeans. Stacey and Clinton roll their eyes and throw up their hands and tell her, "It shouldn't matter! It's not your money!" but the poor client is still standing there wringing her hands because she just can't get past the price tags. I guarantee that if I were ever to be chosen for that show, I would do the exact same thing. I don't care whose money it is, I would get the vapors if I spent that kind of money on one item. I got invited to a fashion party the other day -- like a Tupperware party but for clothes -- and I decided to check out the merchandise online before I sent my RSVP. Good thing, too, because it's for a line of $34 tube tops and $60 T-shirts. I'm still trying to get my eyebrows to come back down to their normal position.

I buy all my clothes on sale. Other than maternity clothes, I can't think of the last time I bought something that wasn't from a secondhand shop or a clearance rack, and even the maternity clothes were bought on sale or at a second-run retailer like TJ Maxx. I have a closet full of decent clothes that I bought for a song. Unfortunately, hardly any of them fit. I've been laboring under the delusion that eventually this baby weight will fall off by itself and making it through by alternating the two pairs of jeans I have that fit. I was hesitant to buy another pair since I really do hope to be a smaller size in a few months and especially because I'm sort of between sizes right now. The 16s I'm wearing are baggy in the butt and the 14s that I can technically fit into are still pretty unflattering in the muffin-top region. I finally had to break down and admit that I needed another pair of jeans last week when Nico put his finger through one of the artfully-distressed spots on my favorite pair, removing the precisely arranged white threads that separated my thigh skin from the light of day. It's a really small spot, but I still feel weird about wearing pants with an actual hole in them to work, so I knew it was time to sack up and buy some jeans.

I decided to go to Old Navy because I had a 30% off coupon and because my recently-mutilated favorite pair of jeans is from there (though I got them at a secondhand shop for $5). I've been fretting, too, over the hoodie I've been wearing to work, battling a sneaking suspicion that at my age I really should have a slightly more professional-looking sweater to wear, so while I was at the store, I tried on one of their cute basic cardigans. I bought the jeans, bought the sweater, and then immediately was consumed by angst. So much! I spent so much! Even with the coupon, my clothes plus three pairs of socks for Nico's Christmas stocking cost 45 dollars. FORTY FIVE DOLLARS. Man, I could've bought NINE PAIRS of jeans at Goodwill for that! I'm sure right now most of you are laughing in your ass-flattering Seven jeans, thinking that I'm a nutbar. And I accept that you're probably correct. (I mean, come on. OLD NAVY. It's not like I'm buying couture, here.) I found out last night that I'm not alone, though. I vented some of my angst by posting on Twitter how weird it felt to buy non-clearance clothes for myself, and it turns out that I have some soul sisters. (Holla, ladies!)

So, I may be a little bit insane for freaking out over $29 mall brand jeans, but I have found peace. I know now that I'm not the only one who gets itchy when the clothes aren't on sale. I know that I'm not the only one who justifies it by trying to average out the full-price clothes against the closet full of dirt-cheap stuff. I know I'm not the only person with the potential to drive Stacey and Clinton stark raving mad. Blessings be upon the bargain hunters. So say we all.