I plan on setting aside a large chunk of my wages when I start working. I have no intention of blowing off all of my salary every month. I have never been a believer of the Gratification 24/7 theory--well, I do love to indulge sometimes. But I maintain that Occasional Hedonism is not quite the same as Gratification 24/7!
And let me really put it out there: I fully intend on treating myself to more glorious heels and lingerie once I become employed. (The thought gives me little shivers of happiness.) But I am much more a fan of Suffer Now, Benefit Later. So a large part of my wages will go into my savings, which will be systematically comparmentalised and labelled. Neurotic? I think not.
Want to know what I'm saving up for?
(1) Just-in-case Cash
The proverbial Nest Egg. Because you can never be too careful. And when bad things happen to good people (yes, me!) I will be prepared.
(2) Property
Because you can call someplace your own. And do whatever you want with it or in it. I plan on getting someplace closer to civilisation. Possibly nearby a train station, some bus stops, maybe even a mall. Inside my new haven of independence, I will be walking around in my underwear, doing my laundry only once a month, cooking beef (mmmm, cow), having single-girl dinners like salads and soup, and cleaning the house only when it really needs it--all the things my mother forbids in our family home. Oooh. The clincher: I'd be able to go out whenever I want, with whomever I want, for as long as I want. Without having to plan it like a bank robbery, ask for permission a month in advance, or be submitted to the Spanish Inquisition. Sounds glorious, no? Yes. Yesyesyes.
(3) Liposuction
Yes, it's true. I will have a Lipo Fund. I make no apologies for my seemingly-skewed principles. I've tried my whole life but Genetics plays God. And Genetics has decreed that my lower half shalt always be naturally slightly larger than is aesthetically proportionate--exercise or no exercise. Now, I could lay awake every night, praying that by some divine miracle, my fat would all band together and mass migrate (and I mean mass) somewhere more appropriate/appealing (read: my boobs). Or, you know. I could just wake up and smell the poo, and go for lipo. I have it all planned: once the precodure is over, I shall look over at the container of fat cells that once inhabited my body, point at it, and say "Hah! Take that!"
Oh, it will happen.
In the event that I somehow accept my pear-shaped self for the way it is, I'll have a nice bunch of unused money. Perfect for getting me more shoes.
