A Midlife Crisis in Aisle 12 and a Cartwheel Discount

I used to think a midlife crisis meant buying a convertible, dyeing my hair magenta, or moving to Bali with a man named Luca who makes artisanal olive oil. Turns out, mine is happening in Aisle 12 of Target, somewhere between the decorative storage baskets and seasonal throw blankets, with a Cartwheel discount glowing like a divine sign from the heavens.

This is my reality. No sports car. No scandalous affair. Just a red cart full of throw pillows, serums, and the unshakable belief that a $14 pumpkin-scented candle is going to fix my life.

How a Midlife Crisis Ends Up in Aisle 12

For some women, a midlife crisis sends them to Paris. I’ve been there. It stinks. And I don’t want to go back. So, for me, it sends me to Target on a random Saturday (because the closest one is 80 miles away!) when I should be home meal prepping or folding laundry.

Aisle 12 isn’t glamorous. It smells faintly of cinnamon-scented pinecones and corporate capitalism. But it’s where I find possibility. In this fluorescent-lit wonderland, I can reinvent myself for under $50 (if I stay out of the clothing section).

Today’s version of me? She’s a cozy, Pinterest-worthy, pumpkin bread-baking, cardigan-wearing goddess.

Tomorrow’s version? Who knows. Possibly a minimalist who drinks matcha and wears only linen.

Receipt #1: The Aspirational Homemaker Phase

Location: Aisle 12, Target
Cart contents:

• Two woven storage baskets (for “organization”)
• A fall-themed doormat
• Plaid throw blanket in “Warm Harvest” tones
• Candle labeled Crisp Autumn Twilight

Total with Cartwheel discount: $64.28

I didn’t walk into Target needing any of this. I walked in needing dishwasher pods. But in my midlife crisis logic, woven baskets = a woman who has her life together. Turns out baskets don’t come with the motivation to use them.

The Emotional High of the Cartwheel Discount

A midlife crisis is basically one long existential question: What am I doing with my life? But slap 20% off a blanket I didn’t know I needed, and suddenly I’m like, What I’m doing is thriving.

Cartwheel discounts are the universe’s way of saying, Yes, you should absolutely buy this $32 mug set, Angela. It’s fate.

Midlife Crisis Phase 2: Skincare Panic in Aisle 3

Like all good Target trips, mine detoured to the beauty aisle. In this phase of my midlife crisis, I am convinced I can buy back my twenties one serum at a time.

Purchased:

• Vitamin C serum (promises “radiance”)
• Retinol eye cream (promises “hope”)
• A $9 lip gloss because the color was called Glow Getter

My midlife crisis isn’t just about feeling young again—it’s about feeling like I’m not actively disintegrating under fluorescent lighting.

Why Aisle 12 Is Ground Zero for a Midlife Crisis

• It’s the home décor aisle: nothing says “reinvention” like a $19.99 faux plant.
• It’s seasonal: autumn = cozy rebirth. Spring = fresh start. Summer = margarita pitcher you didn’t know you needed.
• It’s aspirational: every item promises that this is the purchase that will finally make you “put together.”

And in midlife, “put together” feels like the holy grail.

The Target Therapy Effect

Some people go to therapy. I go to Target. It’s cheaper—well, sort of.

I wander the aisles, hands grazing flannel sheets, letting the possibilities wash over me:

• New sheets = better sleep = maybe I’ll finally be a morning person.
• Matching baskets = organized pantry = maybe I’ll cook more.
• Pumpkin candle = cozy nights = maybe I’ll start reading again instead of doomscrolling.

Midlife crisis math: 1 scented candle + 1 Cartwheel discount = the illusion of life progress.

When Midlife Crisis Meets the Dollar Spot

The real danger isn’t Aisle 12—it’s the Dollar Spot. Because when you’re in a midlife crisis, your brain thinks:

• “I deserve this.”
• “It’s only $3.”
• “What if I need a miniature felt pumpkin and a tiny chalkboard sign that says Gather?”

I don’t need these things. But the Dollar Spot understands my unspoken truth: small, unnecessary items can briefly trick me into thinking my life is whimsical and under control.

What My Cart Says About My Midlife Crisis

If a psychic read my Target cart, here’s what they’d see:

• Throw pillows: Craving comfort.
• Candle: Wants to set a mood she doesn’t have time for.
• Face serum: Refuses to go quietly into that good night.
• Notebooks: Thinks she’s about to get her life together (she’s not).

And honestly? They wouldn’t be wrong.

Midlife Crisis Tip: Own the Cart

Here’s the thing: Your midlife crisis doesn’t have to be dramatic to be real. Maybe you’re not leaving your husband for a man with a sailboat. Maybe you’re just standing in Aisle 12 holding a ceramic pumpkin and thinking, This will change everything.

It won’t. But you get to have it anyway. Because sometimes, midlife is about tiny joys that cost less than therapy and smell like cinnamon.

The Endcap Epiphany

The other day, I stood in front of a display of $20 throw blankets, Cartwheel discount applied, and I had an epiphany: I don’t actually want to “fix” myself. I just want to feel good for 15 minutes while I push a red cart past people who are also buying things they don’t need.

Maybe that’s the whole secret to surviving a midlife crisis: Stop looking for the big transformation and start enjoying the small, ridiculous comforts.

Final Thoughts from Aisle 12

If you’re in your forties (or close enough) and wondering when your midlife crisis will hit, check your trunk. If there’s a Target bag in there with:

• A candle
• A cardigan
• An oddly specific seasonal mug
  … congratulations. You’re in it.

The good news? This kind of midlife crisis comes with a return policy, a Starbucks latte, and occasionally, a Cartwheel discount. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.