Bills, Bills, Bills!

I did some unauthorised retail therapy this afternoon, not because I got a pay-rise, nor did I get a new job, a rich boyfriend or a lottery win. I went shopping because I was told by my dentist that I need £198 worth of dentistry work done. Soooooo, like a typical mad-woman, bad news sent me shopping!

With each purchase I made, I was elated.

Note to self: 'elated... temporary feeling of joy while shopping'.

I didn’t even use a credit card to buy-now-pay-later. No I used my debit card which immediately zooms REAL MONEY out of my bank account; which means one thing - instead of being poor in a few weeks time, I was making myself unnecessarily broke right now.

Can I afford to shop for another dress, another pair of shoes or a frilly thing to put in my hair, NO. Why? Because I also have a gas bill for the ugly sum of £307.24 sitting on the dining table. The bill’s staring up from the table saying to itself "who’s going to pay me? Is it you Miss Lady rushing pass the dining room with the carrier bags full of toot & foolishness?"

I don’t think so!!

In the cold light of day… or night as it’s 9pm, I feel like a stupid, irresponsible cow who should know better. I mean, instead of rushing home to count my money in order to sort my teeth out or pay the gas bill, I run straight into Zara, as if Zara hasn’t got enough stupid women’s money. The jeans don’t fit anyway, so I’m taking them back tomorrow. That’ll make me feel better, that and a few large glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon!

Can you imagine if I swap the jeans for some other piece of crap I don’t need. I may as well just kill myself.

If I do commit suicide, my mum & dad better keep that coffin lid closed. The last thing I need is people saying frigging hell, look her awful teeth!