Why I Retired from Shoplifting

Everyone remembers the first time they started feeling like a real adult. For some people, it’s their 18th birthday. For others, it’s graduating from college or falling in love. For me… it was the day I retired from shoplifting.

I really wish I were one of those normal girls who got giddy over baking cookies and doing arts and crafts, instead of engaging in petty theft. But, I am who I am. And I’ve always believed that being true to yourself is important. 

But that’s the kind of thing you say when you’re the kind of girl who bakes cookies and does arts and crafts. In my case, it’s not so cut and dry. Because shoplifting is the kind of hobby your parents pray to God you don’t pick up. And, I mean, who can blame them? It’s a tale as old as time: you get away with it, you get cocky, and then you get caught. Some people end up banned from stores, and others end up in jail. After all, Icarus never feels the warning until the fall comes. But that’s not where this story is going. 

I was actually really good at it. It’s strange to realize you have a talent for something you shouldn’t be proud of. Even though I kind of am. I was never caught. Never chased. Never stopped at the door. I had undeniable skill, and it just felt good to be good at something.

It was the risk and thrill that pulled me in… and eventually let me go. I hated knowing that one serious fuck-up could leave my fate in some random security guard’s hands. That would be so embarrassing. It would break my life-long undefeated streak of well-executed low-level theft. I don’t know if my ego could handle that. So I stopped before I had to deal with it.

I know stealing is wrong. The Bible and the U.S. legal system are both pretty clear on that. And it’s kind of a serious moral malfunction on my part. Sadly, even if you’re only stealing from big corporations while spending quality time with your friends, it’s still wrong and still illegal. But, I didn’t care… it actually kind of made it more fun.

Unfortunately for me, this isn’t a morality tale of ‘look what happens when you give in to peer pressure.’ The first time I stole something, I was five years old and strapped in a stroller. I was a lost cause from the get-go. But if you really think about it, I’m also sort of a child prodigy. But maybe I just understood at a very young age how I was perceived, and how I could use it to my advantage. But, I’ve also been told that, if there were a ranking of clichés, young white girls who steal makeup and clothes would be right at the top. So I guess I gotta give myself some credit here…

Not everyone can do it. Not everyone is cut out for it. Successful shoplifting requires a peculiar kind of intelligence. I’ve seen kids with perfect SAT scores who couldn’t figure out how to shoplift from a TJ Maxx. I don’t understand people like that at all, so intellectually capable, yet so pragmatically incompetent. The way I thought about it, if I was going to be a habitual offender, I might as well be really fucking good at it.

I paid attention to details others would disregard. I did meticulous research, knowing exactly which stores to hit and which to avoid. I did my homework. My peripheral vision got so sharp that I didn’t need to look up and make eye contact with a camera to know when one was on me. It’s not easy, but it’s honest work. And the high that came after the deed was done always had me chasing the dragon.

But I’m no adrenaline junkie. I didn’t chase highs just for the sake of it. Underage drinking never really excited me. But stealing from the SoHo Brandy Mellville with my friends during lunch period? That was right up my alley. I’ve been told that many alcoholics remember their first drink. I mean, why would I ruin my brain chemistry when I could just ruin my reputation? Everything’s already going to shit anyway.

Someone once told me that most addictions are substitutes for something the soul can’t seem to find. And that sentiment always stuck with me, and made me wonder if that was my real problem. Maybe wanting free makeup and clothes was just the easy explanation. Maybe I just wanted more layers to hide behind. I don’t think that’s the kind of problem a new tank top will solve. I’d rather call myself materialistic instead. I’d rather blame my unfortunately huge, lifelong appetite for corporate-driven femininity than confront whatever it’s distracting me from.

Because why would I make my wallet suffer like that if I don’t have to? I’m not a martyr. And I’m not a sucker. Paying retail is for martyrs and suckers. Martyrs don’t wake up with over $400 worth of Dior lip gloss in their collection. They just wish they did. Suckers don’t steal bodycon dresses from the mall in the afternoon and then wear them out to the club that night. They pay extra to seem cool and trendy. 

I felt like I’d cracked a cheat code to life that everyone else was too blind to see. I couldn’t quite understand why more people didn’t do what felt so obvious to me. Probably because their moral compass actually works. And while I never really felt like I was doing something wrong, I always knew I was doing something wrong. At least on paper, I knew I was. 

I wish I could blame this on an older, cooler friend I was trying to impress. I wish I had a reason that felt more noble, like how Robin Hood did. And that my thefts were a political rebellion against a world built to make you feel broken and then sell you a bunch of expensive Band-Aids. But I don’t like lying. I shoplifted from my heart. Because I liked stealing.

But I can confidently say that stopping shoplifting came from my heart, too. I scared myself. I’ve never seen myself take risks with the same confidence I had when it came to shoplifting. I don’t know why I get nervous asking a new friend to grab coffee, but not for doing something that could land me in jail. Because at the end of the day, it’s just stuff. And it’s not worth it.

Trying to be a better, more responsible person isn’t always fun. It’s kind of boring, actually. There’s nothing to romanticize about standing in a CVS, waiting for someone to unlock something you used to steal all the time. It fucking sucks. It’s humbling. But I know CVS didn’t become like this for no reason. It became like this because of people like me. Every minute I wait feels like designated reflection time for my past wrongdoings. But it’s not a personal punishment. CVS is ruined for everyone now. And I am sorry. 

Being a better person is a choice. And it’s not always the fun choice. But it is the right one.