My Favourite:

Ever since I was a little girl my mother would always take me shopping. Shopping at designers that I've never heard of. Although to be fair: I thought Zellers was a brand a big brand that made and sold everything you will ever need or want. I couldn't even understand how anybody could pay more than $10 for a shirt. This was until they, as in my parents, forced me to move to a city more than 30,000 people= Toronto.

Toronto life seemed too expensive and I was eager to get out right after graduating my final year in high school. I moved right before grade 12, my senior year, which is the absolute worst time! Everybody already has their own cliques and none of them are really willing to accept a new member with open arms. However, I pushed and shoved my way into several different cliques but since the groups were really just segregated into race and not common interest, I was put in with the oriental Asians. Now, not only was I living in the greater Toronto area, I was living in Richmond Hill. Apparently people outside of Richmond hill think we have Beluga caviar and Wagyu cow beef with saffron sprinkled on top for breakfast, afternoon snack and tea, lunch, and dinner and drive our Ferrari's and Lamborghini's on roads made of gold. As much as I would like that to be true.. NOT.. it wasn't. Generally when I thought asian shopping, I thought cheap. This. Was. NOT. The. Case. Asian shopping in Richmond Hill means blowing the average Canadian's weekly income in a day. At first, I thought it was ridiculous. My father kept giving me more and more money so I could dress like the rest of the people in Toronto and bought me a BMW to be as priviledged, if not more, as the rest of the people I went to highschool with. After collecting more money than a third world country could imagine, I went out and blew it all. And I had FUN blowing it all. I got into the fashion scene quickly and the drug scene even quicker. I mean, how are you supposed to fit in designer clothing made for people size 00-2 when you're a size four. I was blessed being 5'8 but getting to a size 2 seemed like an impossible mission until I realized that a little money can buy you some cocaine which can buy you a lot of skinny. So that's how my life went. $80,000CAD, at least, disposable spending a year for three years. I lost my brother to accidental drug overdose and I knew I had to stop. I got sober but I can't seem to stop myself from shopping. Even today, I nearly had a nervous breakdown choosing between a Chanel or a Louis Vuitton that I bought both to spare a stranger from having to call 911 while I am seizuring on the floor from not being able to make a decision on which over priced purse to buy. I know my compulsive need to shop, high end or not, is wrong.. but I can't help myself and there just aren't any cures for this yet. Shopping is a real addiction. It's my addiction.