Today’s date: 9th May 2018
Time: 07:00
Problem: My hair. As always I wake up and think about the most significant thing in my life at that time; and today, it was my hair. Not growing, not curling, constantly frizzy and my loving boyfriend likes to pull it out by the clump as he comforts himself in his sleep, twirling my precious strands around his beasty fingers.
Solution: Facebook!!! Go to Facebook with all your woes and someone, somewhere has a tropical solution of some sort that you get sucked into buying. Today, I became the victim of Juice Plus+. Apparently, for a small arm and a freshly waxed leg, you can buy pills that make your hair grow, and grow strong!! Well, to wake up to such fantastic news, I had to take a bite out of the old Cult Selling apple and I messaged a distributor.
Me: “How much for magic hair pills and do they actually work?” first mistake of the day; opening the Portal of Lies!!!
Distributor: “Hey, they really work. Here are some testimonials that show poorly lit pictures of people with two different hairstyles, but don't actually prove anything other than, these tablets are GOLD and YOU NEED THEM!!”
Me: “I’m sold!! BUT… i don’t have any money so…”
The dream continues.
What I’d really like to say is, “What I really want is SugarBear Hair which is like 3 times the price of your stuff and they taste minty apparently. And endorsed by my Bae, Kylie Jenner. But I have no money and thought you would be a cheaper option but you’re obviously not, now I don’t know what to do. Do you have tablets that make me rich?”
Anyways, needs must. And I need longer hair, therefore I must buy these tablets.
10:00 am
Sat at work, still trying to convince myself that spending stupid amounts on unpredictable hair growth tablets is justifiable.
Twiddling my hair round my fingers, slumped in my chair, I move my gaze from the blinding computer screen down to the dead ends of hair falling onto my notepad. Suddenly, spending £20 a month on hair tablets doesn’t seem so bad. Right now, I’m willing to do what it takes to prevent my hair from breaking and falling out, and I’ve always been told I should invest in my future….?
10:30 am
I am seriously considering packing in my job, to become famous and make tons of money selling my soul on the internet. I most certainly was not born to work in an office, pushing pens and dialling numbers until my knuckles bleed for minimum wage and be polite to the business owners who are in the same position I should be in right now.
10:35 am
Business plans to become rich and famous are in full swing. So far I have;
Step 1: Get Famous
Step 2: Get Rich
12:28 pm
It’s God’s worst invention, Monday. Already the day is dragging. I have so much to do, yet I foolishly agreed to working. I don’t usually work on Mondays, because, who likes Mondays? I normally get my car washed on a Monday afternoon and I hate letting people down. So, I’ve devised a plan and managed to blag an early finish just so I can spend the money I would have earned, had I stayed in work. Even though I may be scraping the bottom of my penny jar, I certainly don’t want the dirt on my car to reflect my shitty financial situation.
4:05 pm
Spent the best part of an hour running around my house looking for £10 to pay the valet for my car wash. Even with all the shrapnel I have accumulated from my handbags, suitcases, car and drawers, I’m still £4.33 short. Is this really my life? Where I sacrifice getting paid to spend money I haven’t earned yet? Well of course it is. I have a spending addiction and I have no way to maintain it.
I forgot to mention, when I arrived home (not the doctor’s, like I told work) there was a parcel waiting for me. It had travelled all the way from China. It was in small envelope, but felt like there was something large inside. The mind boggled. As I inspect the packaging for clues, I’m constantly thinking, “...but what could it be? When did I buy from China?” Of Course everything on Amazon these days is from China, and with their “Buy With One Click” button, how on Earth am I supposed to keep track of what I buy and where it comes from.
Anyway, speculation over. It’s only a hairbrush… for my face!! God Knows. I have no idea why I would even buy one of these things, let alone how to use it or what you use it for. So there it goes, in the cupboard to collect dust and serve no other purpose in life but to represent money that once was but no longer is.
Today’s Date: 10th May 2018
07.00 am
The daily struggle of conjuring enough strength to get out of bed and get dressed for work commences.
10.30 am
A spur of excitement just shot through my veins, reminding me 2 more days and I will be on the plane to my seaside destination, ready to forget the world and spend all my cash on booze, taxis and club entry fees. I joke, I joke. Of course. I won't be paying for anything. I have no money.
Either way, I am most definitely in ‘Holiday Mode’. I don’t think I’ve done a spot of work for the past hour, but so long as I’m getting paid and not in trouble, who cares? Right?
1.45 pm
Eyes are slowly but surely closing, sat behind my migraine inducing computer screen, and all I can think about is, “I need £5.20 for my 9 minutes on the sunbed”, which is essential pre-holiday and also helps boost my compliance to actually go to work tomorrow. I wonder if I can ask for a sub from work so I can use the sunbeds tonight.
to be continued...