I need to sort out my finances. After
all, I’m twenty now. Sorry I just had my birthday, so I’m practicing how it
feels to say it. You know? So when people ask me, I won’t go ‘nineteen!’ and then have
awkward small talk about how I don’t even remember my own age.
I’m twenty now and that means I am (more) of an adult!
Wait, what are taxes? How do I pay bills? *hyperventilating* I have an unopened pile of letters shoved in my drawer dating back to 2014 from
my superannuation company (whatever that means) and I’m too scared to open them.
Right now I am busy saving for student exchange. I’m going to Barnard College, which is in the Upper West
Side of New York City! So if anyone knows someone who needs their car washed,
their lawns mowed, or fertile eggs, I’m your girl.
Just kidding.
About the car washing and lawn mowing.
This body was NOT made for physical labour.
Okay I’m really kidding.
I don’t want my DNA mixing with someone
I haven’t pre-selected either.
In
all seriousness, donating your eggs so that an infertile or same-sex couple can
have a baby is probably one of the most selfless things a person can do. That’s why
I would never. It’s just not in my nature.
Unlike
the Upper-East-Side-private-school-princesses with a hundred thousand
Instagram followers, who make money posting a casual yet perfectly laid out pic
of their tanned arm showcasing a glittering Rolex, I have to work hard for every
cent of this trip! (Maybe not THAT hard though. Do you know how hard it is to make a pic holding teeth whitening strips look effortless?) Hate
those people all you want, but we all secretly wish we were them.
In truth though, every single wake-up-at-5am job I've ever had has given me a sense of undeniable satisfaction. Money can buy you a Rolex, fit tea, and sugar bear hair vitamins, but it can't buy you the sweet feeling you get when the doors of your workplace part, and you inhale the first gulp of fresh, untainted air. At least, that's what rich people tell us to stop us from rioting.
Xx
