Have you ever thought to yourself, I am a PEASANT.  If this were the effing middle ages, I would totally be that girl cleaning the lord's table after a giant feast or whatever.  Then at the end of the feast I'd sneak table scraps to my poor family full of crippled children that wore rags.  I mean, probably.  And these are my collected thoughts/epiphanies/general struggles of being a poor, lowly college student that just equated her life to that of a middle age peasant.  That most likely had leprosy or something.

This all stemmed from a conversation I had last night with Mimi.  In which we tried to estimate how much we would get by selling our eggs. You know, like our unborn children kind of eggs.  And then I realized that we were actually having that conversation.  This wasn't selling clothes to Plato's or donating plasma. This was actually contemplating going to a doctor's office, putting our legs up in stirrups, and risking the chance of running into our egg (er, child) on the street one day. That's when I realized. When selling my unborn children becomes an option, I am poor. 

You get a couple grand each time you donate, by the way.

Other manifestations of my lowly financial state:

++ Target has become this scary place that I'm literally afraid to shop at because I'm just not certain I can control my spending habits there. Not to mention that the last time I went shopping there, not only did I buy unnecessary toiletries (all these fancy face washes and mascaras will just NEVER bore me), but I was fully equipped with a giant cookie, popcorn, and a diet coke. I know. Exciting. 

SORRY I MODEL IN MY FREE TIME. 

++ But then I DO inevitably fall victim to Target's mystifying ways anyways, spending entirely too much time and money there.  It feels like being swindled, and you'd like to speak to a police investigator who will ask you emphatically to point out where on the debit card it was that Target violated you.  Right here, detective, they made me swipe it right here, all the way across. They taunted me, asking questions like "Cash Back?" 

++ The realization that I'm essentially paying thousands of dollars to end up with a piece of paper and maybe a job that pays off my debt. Maybe. I don't think anything else needs to be said about this. 

 ++ I channel my inner Rain Man, having my mind serve as a super efficient calculator that keeps track of everything spent, as I inch closer to the horrifying overdraft zone. Okay, I got a raspberry vanilla sprite from sonic – that’s $3 plus a tip. The burger last night was $5 and fries are $2… Despite tax or tips, I should be covered by the $17.32 in my bank account… I have $17.32 to my name, why am I even eating out right now?

++ I actually have a prepackaged excuse prepared in the event that my debit card is declined. Oh, my bank sent me a new debit card and I forgot to activate it, so… yeah, I’m just going to leave these groceries here and go sort that out…

Anyways. I could go on. But you all get the point. Being poor sucks. Yet I'm making the most of it? Maybe? 

ox/C