I need a second opinion

I know, I know, you've had too much information about my shopping habits this week. But guess what? I don't believe in t.m.i. (No really, stick around and things are gonna get weird). So, let me introduce an integral part of my shopping pattern: the dressing room picture text.

Here's the rub:

1. My shopping experiences usually start as window shopping experiences.
2. This intention to browse only, is quickly tossed aside when I find a bunch of stuff I could maybe somehow like a little bit. Many are "only made for a mannequin's body" type outfits. But, not one to be easily discouraged, I grab these outfits... in 3 sizes and both colors. You never know, right?
3. I then take my loot into dressing room. In shifts. This is retail war and a six-item limit is my enemy.
4. I try stuff on. Look at it from all angles and do this shrug thing that I'm pretty sure is genetic, because my mom and sister do it, too.
5. I remember that I'm the absolute worst decision-maker ever.
6. I text a bunch of pictures to my sister, Kelly, and/or Kenzie. Usually all three.
7. After getting their consensus, I do as they say. (People are sheep, man.)
8. I leave happily with my purchase. Yes, purchase, singular. I'm sorry, fitting room lady, that I only ended up with one thing out of all that. But you know what, I hung them all up again, and even zipped the pants, so there's no need to be all eyeball-rolly.
9. Time passes. Dress has integrated nicely into wardrobe, when BOOM! Regret hits me like the pink power ranger. Not for buying the dress, which is getting along so fabulously with my blazers. It's regret for the picture text!

Why? Because. Because later, I will inevitably make the mistake of openly scrolling through my phone's photo gallery to show someone a silly picture. Then GASP! In my excitement over my purchase (slash my laziness), I didn't delete any of the photos of me trying on clothes! Dumptrucks and fudgecicles, I look like a certified freakshow!

So, if you ever catch a glimpse of one of the 1,000 awkward photos of myself in various dressing rooms, know that the pictures only exist because, at nearly 25, I am incapable of making a concrete choice on my own. Not because I'm an aspiring Mossimo model. Okay? Don't judge me.

Also, what do you think about that coat? (No, really.)