I recently, for the first time in my life, opened an ISA. I think my Bank manager needed CPR afterwards. My bank is not used to seeing my money actually stick around. I am the generic girl in the fact I do like to shop and would rather have new shiny things than worry about the future. Granted, I am not just throwing money around. Having been used to have to watch every penny, I know every bargain hunting trick in the book short of selling my body for a bag of chips. I just happen to stock up.
I'll buy three of something in case it break or if it's a gift, I have one for myself and something for eBay in years to come. Yes, I do buy popular items to sell later when they become collectible with sounds a good idea but not when you suddenly find the attic groaning under the weight of Barbies and Tamagotchis. I buy beauty products but because I am fussy about animal testing, I find myself getting handmade, thigh rolled, all natural products that cost a fortune as instead of chemicals, it contains some extract only found in the plant that grows in Uma Thurman's armpit or something. I also have an addiction to US food and have happily forked out £10.00 for cereal for "special occasions".
I spoil the dog too. A habit I gained from my last pooch who loved to be treated and pampered. My dog get the finest treats, educational toys, and even attends doggy school with a fully qualified canine behaviourist. I'm not rich or posh. Fuck no. I am a council estate baby born on the mean streets of Peckham where it's required that from six months, you learn how to walk, talk, and hot-wire a car. She just happens to be affordable and he has behavioral needs. Just ask the Tesco delivery driver who vaults over the gate. Christmas is the worse time for my bank account because I hit it extremely hard. Food, gifts, trips, Santa's bribe, it all goes out quicker than it comes in. I've spent many years scraping by surrounded by junk while the future me looks back in time from her cat filled cardboard house slurping soup made from newspaper and spit wondering why did I need sixteen bottles of dog shampoo in assorted scents?
Recent events have spurred me into looking out for my future. For a start, I am at the point in life where many girls my age have mortgages, cars, and babies. The single life is awesome but one day in the future, I may find myself in a position where money is tight. My Mother went through this herself having blown all her money before meeting my Father and having me which led to some really crap jobs she had to take. The other thing is while I don't have children, I do have a Father who has every illness under the sun but an incurable allergy to medical advice. Diabetes to him is a sissy term for people who are scared of cake. If something was to happen to me - a chocolate choking incident or an accident from trying to take out Chris Martin, he will need help and support and so will my doggy who will naturally get the bulk of my estate to spend on rawhide.
So off to the bank I went to meet a man who looked scarily like Stephen Merchant who talked to me about ISAs and upgrades and internet banking while I signed forms for insurance and looked blankly, hoping he did not figure out that all that was going on in my head was a monkey in a top hat riding a Victorian penny farthing. So it's official. I am a grown up. I now have to think about savings and pensions and all sorts of mind numbing adult stuff. I will miss the days when I got a cheque and mentally spent it on peanut butter cups and iTunes. But then I look at my loved ones and I know in the end, it will be worth it.
