Why do you always find things that jump out and scream, “BUY ME” when you are trying so hard to repress retail therapy urges?

Everything resonates when I am in my Lululemons, no make up and cruising shopping meccas on Madison and Fifth Avenue after an arduous workout in Central Park.

I must admit to loving the shock value at Bergdorf Goodman, Saks 5th Avenue and Cartier when you stroll in looking so unworthy of a pinkies up environment.

Apparently, in stores I will refrain from calling out, the retail engineers are trained to give you the up and down in under 20 seconds, checking engagement ring size, shoes, bag quality, manicure…

When I bust in and demand an up close and personal with Valentino and Tom Ford they usually purse their lips as if they just smelled a yeast infection and are prone to holding on to the attached security wire in case I decide to dodge.

After all, I am sporting Nikes instead of Roger Vivier, the UGG equivalent on the Upper East Side.

The other day I freaked them out by purchasing a designer bag.

Associates were appalled when I pulled my American Express Black Card out of my sports bra.

Busting balls is always my specialty so I couldn’t resist languishing out loud about whether the purchase should be sent to my Manhattan address, Connecticut, Pacific Palisades, Florida or France…of course, this dilemma was a show of force on my part as they had so severely and condescendingly judged me.

Screw them and never judge a person by their workout attire.

I will send David back to return the bag…or it would make a lovely holiday gift!