We’ve all heard the flippantly flung phrases to sum up difficult situations. For most of our lives we’ve been told things like “No pain, no gain” or “Blood, Sweat and Tears lead to success” but how often do we stop to question these statements. Until recently, I was one of those people who had been indoctrinated to believe that the only way one would be considered successful was to kill myself trying to do inhuman feats and drowning in toxic stress. Continue reading
As someone who is short and I mean just barely scratching 5 ft I’m usually the girl who wears nine inch heels and rocks them. Why? It’s simple. I need to wear shoes high enough to match my personality.
That and I’m a sucker for a pair of sky high strappy sandals in my size. To be perfectly honest, my future husband should probably thank his lucky stars that my feet are so tiny. If my feet had been a size or two bigger I’d literally own thousands of shoes by now. But alas, I am cursed with feet the size of a garden gnome and no one makes gorgeous heels for tiny feet.
Most people just assume I wear my heels to give me a little extra height or because they match my outfit. But one of my best friend is a strange creature who feels the need to question and analyze everything. So one day while we were sipping coffee I get thrown the question “Why do you do it? Why do you torture your feet in those monstrosities?” To be fair I was caught off guard or I would have chucked my coffee across the table at such blasphemous words but instead I answered with the words of Christian Louboutin:
Needless to say my friend was aghast. So aghast it took a full ten minutes before the topic was mentioned again. This time with a timid “So explain your obsession”
In respect of the softer approach I decided to introduce my friend to the world of heels. It started with a quick trip to the local shoe shop and then a quick demonstration of how to pair your shoes and your outfit. Within ten minutes I witnessed the birth of a love affair.
Her eyes sparkled and she walked with a sway in her hips and a confidence that rivaled a run way models. That my dear friends is the magic of a new pair of shoes.
Heels magically cure your insecurities and make you fearless.
After all, how can you be scared of new heights when you’re wearing the sky scraper…
Considering the fact that I actually get a monthly allowance, don’t pay for water, electricity or accommodation and get three free meals a day you would expect me to have enough cash to go out once in while or treat myself to a spa day. And if I’m having a really good month I might be able to actually do all of those things. Unfortunately, those months are few and far between. In fact they’re so rare I sometimes feel like I’d have a better chance finding a rainbow unicorn.
Now you’re probably wondering what the heck do I spend my money on….
Here’s the thing, ninety percent of the time I have no idea what I do with the money. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. The pile of receipts in my wallet tell a different story. Not to mention the overflowing makeup box that sits on my dresser. Basically if I’m not buying junk food, that I actually don’t need to eat because I’m not hungry I’m just bored, I’m buying Make-up. I don’t need it nor do I use them regularly enough to warrant a monthly splurge. Unfortunately, I live by one rule and one rule only: A girl can never have too many shoes and bottles of mascara.
I learnt at a young age that my light eyes were different to everyone else’s and that many people found them weirdly attractive. So when I discovered the wonders of mascara it was inevitable that I would become addicted. I have fairly long eyelashes but you will not believe how transforming a swipe of mascara can be.
A little bit of really good mascara can take you from sleepy, puffy eyes to popping Zooey Deschanel wide awake. And while many people are addicted to a single type of mascara I’m not picky. Some say it’s the brush that makes the difference and others say it’s the formula. I say as long as it’s not dry or flaky I’ll use it. Yes, some work better than others but in the end I’m an addict and a hit is a hit right?
Think of it this way, a cocaine addict knows that a certain dealer may have better quality coke but when they need a hit they will buy whatever they can get their hands on right? Similarly, when I need my hit I don’t care about the formula or the brush. I buy it, try it and then if I hate it, it sits in my makeup bag for the rest of its life. So before I spend every cent I earn this holiday I decided to get some help. In order to do that I have to make a confession:
I am Broke Bella and I’m a Mascaraholic.
BrokeBella 