A Shopaholic's Views on Black Friday

I am a self-admitted shopaholic.

When someone asks me to list my hobbies, shopping consistently holds its number three slot, right behind reading and writing.

It's no surprise that when Thanksgiving begins to draw near, many people are saying, "Jenna, where do you go for Black Friday?"

Except I do not go anywhere for Black Friday.

Because Black Friday?

Totally not my thing.

For me, Black Friday is reminiscent of the pandemonium surrounding a piñata at a child's birthday party.

I have terrible memories of these things.

I can remember standing back in horror as all of the other children dived for candy, pushing and jostling and shoving along the way.

"It's not worth it! It's just candy," I can remember thinking, likely followed by, "I'll just ask my dad to stop and get me some candy cigarettes on the way home."

This is now how I feel when I see videos of Black Friday shoppers running into Target stores, shimmying under rising security gates, or elbowing another customer out of the way to nab some electronic.

Someone save this poor Target employee!

It all seems so barbaric.

I'd really just rather pay full price for something than deal with that sort of hysteria.

So, unless I have to catch a flight to somewhere glamorous, Hugh Jackman is on my doorstep, or there is a royal wedding being televised, I will remain in my bed during the early hours of Thanksgiving morning.