Budget Shmudget

In the spirit of my new month and new inward focus, today I completely blew my fortnightly budget. I was very proud of myself for not having touched my credit card, and I thought, fuck it. I'll treat myself. So I did, with the following banal-to-some-but-fantastic-to-me purchases:

1. Indian Cookbook - a proper one, with authentic recipes and a lovely and large glossary of terms in the back.
2. 'The Secret' - some book by some chick who apparently goes on about how you can train your brain to being more positive with the intention of shacking up with your perfect guy. Meh.
3. Fuck-Me-Boots - Woooo! They're hot, they're sexy, they're far too high and excessively painful, and I love them.
4. Skirt - to go with the boots of course. It's pretty average.

So, roughly $350 later, I'm prancing about the house in said boots trying to wear them in, but am now thinking that a better idea would be to save the pain for another day. Today is not a day of pain, oh no, it's a day of me. All about ME.

I'm going to give myself a facial now, then I'm going to cook a pumpkin and Gorgonzola risotto, then I'll paint my nails while watching Dirty Dancing and imagine my perfect man lifting me ballerina-style in the middle of a lake while we practice our award winning dance routine that my parents have no idea about... oooh the excitement...

After-Thought:

This megalomania raises a couple of questions though... Am I allowed to spend an entire day deep in self-indulgence and reflection? Is this socially acceptable? Is such a pastime limited to the female sex? Can men indulge in such a whimsical waste of time? ... Does anybody give a shit?