All That She Wants


It’s funny how we think that if we just had enough money, it would solve everything. Having just finished up looking at my accounting on LearnVest, I can promise you that (at least for me) it isn’t true in the least. Here I am, making what a year ago would have seemed an exorbitant sum, and I am still just barely keeping afloat. Maybe it’s the 30% I need to set away for taxes every paycheck. Maybe it’s the student loan bills. Maybe it’s the truly insane cost of my monthly health insurance bill (which costs enough that I can’t actually afford to go to the doctor – which requires a copay – on top of paying the health insurance, isn’t that just hilarious?)

Since I can’t seem to get this stuff figured out on my own, I’ve decided to hire a financial planner. Nothing fancy, of course. Just one of the LearnVest planners, who still cost more than I’d prefer to spend, but if I don’t get someone in charge of this who can tell me what/what not to do, I’m afraid I’ll be bleeding even more money each month. So I’m doing the grownup thing and paying someone to help me plan a future where I can hopefully be a little less stressed about my financial security every second of the day.

I probably wouldn’t have had this much time to get obsessed with finances had I not been ill and at home pretty much all week. I caught a nasty cold, and have spent the last three days coughing and feeling feverish, so I’ve been stuck in my apartment, just fixating on all of the things I’d be studiously ignoring if I could go to work and the gym like usual. God, I miss the gym.

Anyway, I thought I’d write a little bit about my wants, because why not, right?

I want straight teeth.
I want corrected vision.
I want hair that makes me look both feminine and carefree.
I want to lose 40 lbs.
I want my boobs to stay this size, even when I lose weight.
I want my thighs not to rub when I wear skirts.
I want my spider veins to be corrected.
I want to not have to shave my legs anymore.
I want my elbows to be soft and pink, instead of slightly grayish no matter how much I scrub them.
I want to stop breaking out.
I want a new Fitbit Charge HR that will pair with my LoseIt app on my cell phone (which pairs with my Healthometer scale).
I want to be funny.
I want to be well-spoken.
I want to know what my passion is.
I want to follow my passion.
I want to be more confident.
I want people to find me attractive and interesting.
I want to be able to get onstage to sing or talk without seeing myself through the crowd’s eyes and hating wasting their time by looking like this.
I want to not hate myself.
I want to care more about other people, instead of just thinking that I should care more about other people.
I want to buy my apartment.
I want to buy the apartment next door and open the two up.
I want a third cat.
I want a pug.
I want to want to garden.
I want some cacti.
I want central air, so my living room would be the same temperature as my bedroom, and I wouldn’t have to sleep under the window unit and get sick.
I want my family to want to visit me.
I want someone to publish my boyfriend’s book, and buy the rights to his movie.
I want a car.
I want to be a morning person.
I want to be able to live on less sleep.
I want to be energized.
I want to be alluring.
I want to be magical.
I want to stop wanting so much.
I want to be happy with myself, even if for just a little while.
I want to stop living in this pool of self-loathing and pretending that everything’s OK.
I want to be able to believe that everyone else isn’t doing the same damn thing.
I want to run away.

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