Denial level: Mariah.
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Don’t worry — this is a circle of (bankrupted) trust. C’mon in…
If you’ve never lay in the dark frantically scrolling through Asos at quarter to midnight trying to squeeze in that next day delivery when really you don’t need a damn thing, let alone in the next 12 hours, then I feel sorry for you friend. I’ve spent more nights than I care to admit this way, and my bank balance has taken a beating because of it. But I honestly can’t help it. The thrill is what I imagine ecstasy stuffed churros with a salted caramel sauce laced with cocaine would feel like. The sense of achievement and the excitement for what’s to come the following day makes me practically giddy… until that inevitable moment of crippling disappointment when I try on my danger buy and think, what the fuck was I on? (Ecstasy churros, apparently).
Call it old age or call it a friendly intervention from the bank, but I’ve decided to make a change. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m definitely going to try to *deep breath* stop spending my money on absolute shit. Elle recently told me about a spend tracker app that she’s been using and I decided to give it a go. I’ll be honest – we’re on day three and I’m already getting the shakes and hallucinating.
I knew what I had to do — reprogram my brain. Find ways to occupy myself that didn’t involve an ankle boot or a cosy knit. Last weekend I almost clicked onto the Mango sale at the exact moment an email flashed up from JustGiving, so I decided to click onto the site and look through some campaigns. Do I miss the denim dress that I didn’t end up buying now that I’ve donated £10 to help raise funds for breast cancer screening equipment in poverty stricken countries? NOPE. I’m not saying we should always stop treating ourselves in favour of charitable causes (or, should we?), but on this occasion I felt a different kind of high… and I liked it.
Who knows if I’m in this for the long haul, but I’m willing to give it a go. Can a leopard really change it’s spots? Tonight, I cancelled my full colour hair appointment in favour of a much more modest dry cut for £15. Mother f’in Theresa.