Oddity

Till today, I do not, and could not, immerse myself in shopping. I simply refuse to comprehend the thrill of it. The ceaseless stroking of hysteria-driven quivering fingers against the velvety surface of the cloth, the almost-predatory glint in the eyes as they scoured rows after rows of footwear, the adrenaline rush brought on by the tireless draping of countless pieces of clothing over themselves, the craving to own them all evident in the fervent cam-whoring in the changing room, and once self-approved, the raving exhilaration of being handed the plastic bag containing the fruit after a hard day’s labour of sifting through shelves of brand new goods to pick one, or more. I have yet to experience any of that.

Speaking of which, I detest wearing pumps, boots, and any form of elevated shoes even if I feel sexy in them. They affect your ankle, feet (the weight of the body would be directed onto the balls of the feet, causing nerve problems and the shortening of Achilles tendon), knees, spine (the lower back would become more arched and protruding), hips and mental health (blood vessels and nerve supply would be constricted). In simple English, they shorten your life. So there. Of course, there were inevitable moments, during which I would turn to wedges (bigger surface area so less pressure).

And I supposed you could see this one coming: I loath make-up. Full stop. No explanation needed, other than the fact that it makes me feel pretentious and fake.

I am a poor excuse for a girl.

In my materialistic world, or as materialistic as it could be, there is only books. A productive day for me would be pouring over ant-sized words inscribed on creamy paper for hours on end. Coupled with curling up in the recliner next to the window/door, bathed in the flood of sunlight, and a mug of chocolate: HEAVEN.

Though ironically, I seem to own more clothes than books. I have an entire cupboard bursting with blouse, shirts, skirts, jeans and rags I wear at home, while I only managed to fill 3 rows with novels that I personally chose and bought (the mountain of encyclopedia and reference books are not counted). Probably because of my policy of purchasing only if I really love it or desperately need it. God knows how long I take to pick one single book. So, up until miracle struck and I found BookXcess, I got an average of 2 books a year. I survived on my cousin’s and Amanda’s home library.

Yeah. I exude an aura of abnormality. Though it affects the male or female species more, I have no idea.

P.S. I seem to have taken a keen interest on philosophy and psychology lately. I even posted a random thought-inducing observation I made, on Facebook. Weird.