The Omnibus

Issue date: 5/6/04 Section: Humor

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Shopping, I believe, is my favorite sport. It may not be a sport by definition, but since I rule the universe that exists within my column, I can declare shopping to be a sport, a skill or a peanut butter sandwich. Ah, the power!

While I admit shopping will not fill the God-shaped void within our souls, it does fill the shoe-shaped void within my closet. I confess to the sin of being greedy for more possessions: shoes, handbags, stuffed animals, shoes, etc. I think it would be more of a sin if I was in the habit of having money with which to actually buy shoes. However, as of right now, I owe Southwest Baptist University either tens of thousands of dollars or my first-born child, so my shopping funds tend to be limited.

For many women and some men, shopping is a sport that can be compared to hunting. Actually, I think more men like to shop than they admit. Shopping trips probably present as many challenges as hunting. We shoppers must be able to rise early when the bargains are stirring in their dens, to sniff out the most likely places the good sales would hide and avoid the false trails left by irritating store attendants. We must use restrooms that would be cleaner if they were outside, walk miles looking for the perfect gift while ignoring our own desires - sometimes - and deal with companions who are constantly finding items they like and constantly deciding against them. How is that not a sport?

I spoke of "mall-crawling" just now, but there are other places to hunt. Wal-Mart could be compared to a successful drug dealer because I keep coming back despite my dwindling funds. If you object to the simile, I assure you, so does my wallet. I used to think I was the only one who, despite my mad list-writing skills, forgot at least one item to purchase on the last shopping trip, but then I met other people just like me. Now we travel to Wal-Mart together like some hopelessly lost nomadic tribe continually returning to the same retail oasis.

When the mall is too far away and Wal-Mart is too busy, there is always the Southwest Baptist University Bookstore. When I was a transfer student, I would wander through the mini-aisles with a blank look on my face until someone saw me through the glass walls and claimed me. The bookstore is full of all this stuff we mostly do not need but kind of want because there are fish or crosses in places we never conceived of placing them. There are doodads to buy that lack any obvious purpose but are brightly colored and therefore appealing, especially if our mothers are mad for anything with the school's logo emblazoned on it. Being without a car, I find the Bookstore especially convenient when there is an emergency-sized need for deodorant or someone's birthday sneaks up on me, and I have some reason for being on their good side.

Since shopping has been declared a sport, I hereby also declare shopping as exercise. The more money I lose, the more calories I should lose. Actually if shoppers walk around long enough, they do burn energy, but therein lies the rub. The more we shop, the more we spend!  

Sarah Mann is the humor columnist for the Omnibus and can be reached at FraggleSarah@hotmail.com for comments, donations or offers of gummy bears. Gummy bears will rule the world some day.

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