As a college junior, I’m not exactly rolling in the deep dough. However, I am guilty of shelling out pretty pennies for some not-all-that-necessary things. Let’s hear the case study:
I’m quite the pop music fan. I collect Madonna, Britney Spears and Lady GaGa concert DVDs like most people snatch up candy. I can’t help it—though it’s not like I’m ashamed of my musical tastes. There’s something about the elastic and slightly pink world of pop that I find delicious.
However, this “blonde ambition” has caused me to fork over some serious dough for DVDs I don’t necessarily have to have. Why do I buy them, you ask? —Simply to uphold the image that I enjoy the entire scope of pop divas. Because that’s legitimate.
I don’t know why I feel this internal duty to be the king of the queens—by queens, I obviously mean the pop goddesses known as Britney, Madonna, GaGa, Kylie and any other glamazon with a nice weave and headset mic. On some level, I’ve always wanted to be a part of their glitter-soaked club of pure fabulousness, but I’ve always ended up a pitchy note too short. I blame genetics.
As a byproduct, I’ve taken it upon myself to create the most epic pop diva concert collection known to man. It’s a daunting task, and one that I feel is judged by the world of little monsters and Minogue-addicts—but truthfully, no one is looking. Womp.
This pressure led to what is perhaps the most expensive item I’ve ever purchased that I didn’t want. I’ve aptly named this situation the Beyoncé Blowout.
I remember the Beyoncé Blowout like it was yesterday. It was May, and my friends and I were trekking to Target for a little post-exams shopping. While the female friends I was with went straight to the bikinis, I headed to the electronics to indulge in my pop addiction. I was shuffling through the pastel covers of concert DVDs—Britney Spears, Dream Within a Dream? Check. Madonna, The Confessions Tour? Check. Lady GaGa, The Monster Ball? Check. —when I stumbled upon the other Queen B: Beyoncé. Namely, Beyoncé: Live from Roseland. I froze. Mrs. Carter stared at me with her searing Sasha Fierce bravado, one perfect finger seductively hanging from her mouth. I knew what she was saying: “Buy me, Chris! Add me to your collection! I’d be a perfect fit.”
Ugh…she was right. Queen B would fit majestically beside my bottled blonde loves. But…I didn’t love her. Don’t get me wrong, no one can rock a song/dance combo quite like Bey, but she’s just not one of my favorites. Still, it was if the entire Britney Army was with me in that Target, telling me that I needed a dash of “Single Ladies” in my collection. She would complete it.
So, I bought the DVD for a cool $20. Twenty. Dollars. Mind you, my undergraduate budget is about $30 a week…and that includes necessities like food. When I got home, I popped in the disc and watched Beyoncé—infinitely long legs and all—tear up the stage for 90 minutes.
Then it was over, and I haven’t watched the freakin’ DVD since.
I don’t know what came over me. I paid for the DVD because I wanted to have a collection that spanned from “Express Yourself” to “Run the World (Girls).” I’m still wondering whom I was trying to impress. My bank account certainly wasn’t.
This type of spending cannot happen while I have a job that pays minimum wage. Do I regret the decision? Absolutely.
This week’s lesson is simply a message to collegiate coeds who think their lives won’t be complete without that $100 uni sweater from the student union. Listen: Your life is fine. Your wallet won’t be. Step away from the sweater. Far away.
Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have spent a week eating lettuce.
Do any of my fellow broke-ass undergrads have stories of impulse shopping gone wrong? Do you have a weakness similar to my diva concert DVD obsession?