Consumerism, where art thou?

So I recently got a job. A job of which I am quite proud, in fact. And this job means I actually have money. To spend. This has never happened to me before. Living from pocket-money, scrounging for cash: those days are gone. So I was prowling the shops, as I have always done, trying on clothes, speculating on what I could afford with my newfound riches, and I tried on many things, most of which I planned to buy. 

So I got to the counter and handed over my garment to the overly perky shop assistant, secretly very proud of how nonchalant I was, when it hit me. A wave of ... what? NON-CONSUMERISM. Suddenly, pointless, irritating thoughts came into my head. 

"Why do I need this?"

"Why am I am buying this?"

"This is meaningless, it won't make me happy." 

And the like. 

Someone else might be enlightened by these thoughts. Oh good, she finally found some inner peace and might move on to deeper things. But for me, this is terrible. Because I enjoy shopping, I think it contributes to my overall teenage-girldom. And I don't know what to do without it. Buying things usually makes me happy - why is this happening to me?? I don't what to be profound. I want to buy things and feel satisfied! Now I don't know what to spend my money on. Children's hospitals? Food for the homeless? If I was half as good a person and I like to think I am, I would. But I need the rush of buying something fabulous - I am an addict. They don't call it retail therapy for nothing. 

Our father, who art in heaven. 

Please grant me my usual selfish, consumerist attitude and send this meaningful, well-adjusted gimmick back to the suppliers. 

Amen.