If hell exists, my personal torture would be shopping for clothes.
I like knowing what I need, what imma get, and getting out, but then you go to a mall and there’s like a billion people, music screaming at me, and lights that make me look like a freaking toad. And don’t even get me started on being plus size and shopping, let’s say I do find something cute, they don’t have my size because I dared to eat breakfast that morning and my waist isn’t the size of a pin. Then, when you think you’re finally free, the people you’re shopping with say “oh one more store!” And they stay there for an hour.
Ya, I hate shopping.














