Manufactured Need

It happens every year at the changes of the seasons--at the end of winter and at the end of summer: I forget why I avoid the mall, Target, Old Navy and the like. I have enough of anything I could possibly need, and yet I walk into places that tell me I don't have enough, and nine times out of ten, I go for the bait. Even if I don't buy anything, I walk out of the store with a sort of manufactured sense of need. I'm aware of what's happening. I know it's false. But I still experience it. This particular sort of materialism is one of the banes of my existence. It's particularly tempting this season, having just given birth and feeling rather uncomfortable in my skin no matter what I'm wearing.

This year, I think I'm going to make do with what I have, and try to realize at more than an intellectual level that I'm not really making do. I have so much more than I need. One more sweater, or that shirt or dress that seems so perfect I can't pass it up, won't add to my beauty or my worth. It's just another thing to hang in my closet with the myriad other items I couldn't live without last year or the year before.