Thursday, 5 August 2010

Skint.

I haven't been very well, but not in an especially exciting way. Just in a, you know, snotty and crappy way. But I did major wallowing and had a nice few fukmalyf days and it seems a shame not to acknowledge them, even though I don't really have a lot to say about the germ party. So oui, I had a germ party. The end.

I never have any money. I'm on benefits and I'm really not as ashamed of that as people would like me to be or as ashamed as people try to make me, by trying to make me justify my life ('so what do you do, Rebecca?' 'I eat a lot.' 'No, I mean what do you DO... Do you work?' 'Oh, no. I'm signed off sick' 'Oh. Right. What do you do when you're not signed off?' 'Well, I've been ill for quite a while and, um... I'm on a bit of a gap year and...' ). I mean, I have no intention of spending the rest of my life on benefits but right now, doctor will not LET me work and so I couldn't legally get a job, even if I thought I was well enough.

But anyway, it means I never have any money. I get £90 a week, of which I give my mum £25, so really I have £65. Which is actually quite a nice sum when you consider my mum buys my food and, um, tampons and deo for my BO and shit. But you also have to remember, Bulimia is bloody expensive. My mum buys me my, I don't know a word to describe it- she buys me food for meals and then I buy my binges. It seems odd (since I binge on the meal food, too) but it's just how it works out. A normal binge day is liable to cost £30, my laxative and diuretic habit can run to that much in a week.

And so I have got clever. I only buy clothes in sales or from charity shops, which is fine because I can't stand being on trend. I steal public transport- I am an actual genius at it because I'm a damn good actress. I binge on the cheapest, nastiest food you can imagine (I'm vegetarian. Not because I give a shit about animals, but because I'm not willing to eat the testicals and eye lids of shit pigs) which means I can get a day, 10 or 12 binges, for not much more than a fiver (it's difficult to express of much of a talent and how useful of one this is). I walk 2 miles to buy the cheapest Pepsi in town (I drink 2l of Pepsi Max a day). When I go out, I take tea bags in my handbag because most places will give you free take-away hot water. But even with my genius and my talent at being poor, I still end up constantly skint.

My money for the fortnight (so, £180) came into my bank on Friday and by Sunday I had £25. Monday and today were baaaaaaaaad Bulimic days (on Monday, my nose wouldn't stop bleeding from throwing up so much and right now my face is so disfigured for swollen glands) and so now I am utterly wiped out for another week. But I had a very excellent day out last Friday (I might blog about it tomorrow, it deserves to be written about) and then I bought a dress, a hat and some sunglasses online (in case you were wondering, the hat is excellent and the dress and sunnies are coming tomorrow). It's nightmare-ish, I have 2 months before uni and I NEED a laptop. I want to sort out my wrist tattoo (it wass meant to be tongue in cheek and boring fuckers give me hate over it. And I'm bored of it, so I want it covered). I need so much for uni and I just can't save- I spend my money as soon as I get it on clothes, because otherwise I know I'll vom' it away. Oh, the expense of being tapped!

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