Hello my name is Jenn and I'm a........

They say the first step in the recovery process is admitting you have a problem.  So here it goes, but you'll to come in nice and close, cause I'm only going to say it once and really, really quietly......

My name is Jenn and I'm a value village whore.

There.  I said it.  No taking it back now, you all know my deepest, darkest secret.  Well not my deepest, darkest...the statue of limitations isn't up on that one yet, so I'm not saying a word. For now, be happy that you got my second deepest darkest secret.  But please don't judge.....I know your secrets....I read minds as a hobbie.

Yes, its true.  I'm not proud of it (yes I am) but I'm addicted to VV boutique. Kinda like Charlie Sheen and crack, like Tiger Woods and flown in hookers, like...well you get the picture.  I'm nothing more than a dirty, dirty gently used clothing slut. 

Today was a 50% off day at VV (only for card-carrying members like yours truly), and next to Christmas, there isn't another day of the year in which I literally wake up with a smile on my face.  Well, actually that smile was probably from the dream I had about Ryan Reynolds doing my laundry while serving me a keg size glass of pinot girgio. Mmmmm pinot girgio....Oh my, is it getting hot in here....anyways, where was I? Ahh yes, Boutique de Value Village (everything sounds high class in French)

50% off is my everything.  I'm seriously considering getting a tattoo professing my love of VV's discounted days.  I mark the calendar, make sure I don't double book any appointments and drink plenty of protein shakes (in the high stakes world of ghetto shopping, there is no room for slackers!) But I think my love may have taken a dark turn....

Two weeks ago, after noticing that my closet was overflowing with clothes (read: after getting tangled up in unworn jeans and "what-the-hell-was-I-thinking-when-I-bought-these" sweaters followed by stubbing my toe on a too-full to close dresser drawer and cursing like a trucker) I went on a clean-sweep rampage. Anything that I hadn't worn in over a decade, did not like or could no longer squeeze my behind into got the boot.  In other words, 1992 called and wanted my size 2 acid washed jeans back, and I was reluctantly willing to hand them over(hey, everything comes back into style....eventually).  Soooo, I filled 4 garbage bags with my scraps and headed off to the local VV.  As I dropped off the bags, I should have relished in the fact that I would be heading home to a somewhat organized closet.  But nooooo, I just had to peek inside the freaking store.  4 bags, 2 hours and $56 later, I headed home with the exact same amount of clothing that I had left with!!!!  GRRRRRR

Sadly and shamelessly, my addiction to used crap is not limited to the walls of Value Village. Oh no, that would be way too freaking easy.  No, I also have a thing for other people's garbage....literally.  When I'm driving the bus, I cannot help but micro-scan curb side garbage for any hidden treasures.  With a quick glance, I can tell if something is of interest and/or value.  What?  You expected me to actually pay attention to driving?  Silly reader.  You're funny.

For many moons, I have picked junk treasures out of people's discarded waste.  Over the years, I've found a little slide/playground thingy for the boys, a desk, a WORKING air hockey table, a shelf and a high end stroller, just to name a few treasures.  Some of it we keep, some of it we donate and some of it we sell on Kijiji (made $175 on the stroller!!!)

But my garbage picking hit an all-time low when, during a recent family dinner (yes, the guests were still at my house and may or may not have been still sitting at the table), I ran down the street in my sandals (it was raining) and picked up a bench.  Perfectly good, totally functionable (is that a word?) cushioned bench.  Sure I didn't know where I was going to put it, nor did I even know the condition of it before I brought it home.  For all I knew, it could have been covered in puke and pee with a nasty ant infestation, but it was raining and I had sandals on -- no time for minor details! Plus, I was too ashamed to inspect it in front of their house (I party with these people!)  Fortunately, it all worked out in the end.  I got a beautiful, free bench (which I thoroughly cleaned), my neighbours got rid of junk and the landfill was spared.   Saving the landfill....yeeeaaaah that's why I pick garbage...."saving the environment"......you can just call me the next David Suzuki.   No seriously, people throw out perfectly good stuff which, if I didn't save it, would rot for eternity in a Michigan landfill.   Why wouldn't I pluck it out, use it and then donate it when we're finished with it.  I consider it to be my duty to be the superhero of the garbage world.  Now I just need to convince the mayor to shine a spotlight into the sky whenever there is a lonely piece of garbage to be rescued.......

Looks like I've found an excuse for my garbage picking (should "excuse" and "garbage picking" be used in the same sentence?) but I really have no excuse for the Value Village obsession.  I'm just going to have to quit cold turkey.  For my new years resolution I solemnly swear that I will not shop at Value Village unless I am accompanied by a rational adult who will talk me down from buying yet another purple hoodie. So there you have it,  starting January 1st, there will be no more VV.  Which can only mean one thing.....look out Goodwill....here I come!