Sunday, 9 January 2011

Want my advice?

Oh my goodness, I’m exhausted.

Since 2011 began, not only have I experienced Catholic levels of guilt for every penny I have spent, (food – surely non essential, a train ticket to visit my parents – exorbitantly expensive, I’ll just go next year) but I’ve also been following all of the helpful recommendations of newspapers, adverts and retailers. After all they’ve only got what’s best for me at heart.

I was indeed ‘naughty’ over the festive season, with one too many wines, mince pies and after eights. I am thus feeling the appropriate amount of advertising induced guilt and considering the veritable benefits of overpriced gym membership, stocking up on ‘slimming’ special K and feeling suitably motivated to blend a batch of cabbage soup.

Of course, it’s all wasted on me at the moment. I simply can’t afford to keep up with the Jones’.

I would have once have seen and envied the bodies of Hollywood stars, but I’ve had to cancel the DVD rental.

There was a time when I could have pored over ‘How to make 2011 your best year yet’ or ‘The new diet that caused Cheryl Cole to waste away’, but I’ve cancelled the magazine subscription

2011 is the year that I can’t afford to take any of this bogus advice, and all the more adequate I feel for it.

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