Money and me, not meant to be

So you spend all nite budgeting the next paycheck, down to the allotted amounts for lunches and pedicure (yes, it's still a budget even if it has what some would consider "perks"). Catch yourself at coffee with some girlfriends, they suggest popping into the Sale at Banana Republic, and thinking of the sparse amount of clean possibilities hanging in the closet on a Sunday evening, with no plan of making it to the cleaner's before day two of the workweek, and suddenly blowing $100 on one outift makes some kind of sense. Nevermind that there is no line item that can be ignored in that budget you spent hours considering and "committing" to. The thought of handwashing one of the items lingering in the "to the cleaners" pile never arises. Bran-spankin new pin stripe trousers and a fushia V-neck is well worth the C-note when you consider that it will get at least 5 wears! I am proud of myself that I was enamoured enough with a sale item that I feel almost no guilt.

I wonder, if I felt thinner, more attractive, if having clothes that I respectfully admire would be so important. Is this outer facade worth all my cash? The idea of wearing the same old tired duds makes my heart sad. The thought of getting dressed for work - monotonous. Is the struggle for cuteness paying off?

Well, at least I ain't paying for tummy tucks and breast implants. And if one should point out that I don't have enough self control to "Save-up" enough for one, then to you I say "Touche...now politely f*ck off and die."

DAMMIT!!!!!