My Name is Emma and I Have a Problem...

Spoiler: I own two out of three shoes pictured...

Those of you who read my blog on Monday will know that I'm not very well, at the moment.  I've finally seen a doctor about it and it turns out that I have some kind of virus that's gotten to my chest and made me cough and wheeze even more than is usual for an asthmatic.  I'm on steroids and I'm expecting my six pack and beard to magically appear any day, now...

The trouble with having lots of time on your hands due to illness is that you're very limited as to what you can do.  I can't go for a day out anywhere, because I'm liable to start spluttering and gasping for breath if I walk too far.  I can't go to watch a film at the cinema, because the audience would most definitely lynch me for coughing through all the important bits.  I'm largely housebound, with the exception of the odd short walk to stop me going insane.  And being housebound is very dangerous, because I have a problem I'd like to share with you all, today.

My name is Emma and I think I might be a shopaholic.

I have this urge to buy stuff.  It happens a lot and it's usually not even stuff I need.  

I will browse websites that sell dresses and skirts for literally an hour at a time.  I have the Irregular Choice website bookmarked in my favourites, because you just never know when you'll get a sudden urge to buy quirky, gorgeous heels.  I lose entire evenings on Amazon, just looking at the weird stuff you can buy, even though I have NO need to be buying any of it.  This morning alone, I spent half an hour browsing phone cases, before deciding that I'd check later to see if you can have a personalised one made.  Because I need Dan & Phil on a flip case, duh.

Actually, I've got such a problem that just writing that last sentence reminded me that I never did get around to checking about personalised flip cases (it has to be a flip case - I drop my phone at least seven times a day).  And as a result, I have created this masterpiece, which, when I have a spare £19.95, I will definitely be ordering:

Sorry Dan.  You can be on my iPad or something.

The trouble is, I don't actually have an income to justify my urge to splurge.  There are currently three weeks until pay day and I have the princely sum of £36.71 in my bank account.  And depressingly, roughly £34 of that is earmarked for bills.  There's cash in my wallet, but that's not money I can simply chuck away on the most beautiful phone case known to man, either.

In summary, I have a massive love of shopping (be it online or in person - I'm not fussy), but literally no funds with which to do it.  Well, no funds for a while, anyway.  Sadly, March, April and May require me to buy wedding gifts, car insurance, birthday presents and other such things.  That's all stuff I obviously don't mind spending money on (well, with the exception of the car insurance - the only good thing about that is the free meerkat toy I totally didn't choose a comparison website just to to get), but it does mean that for the next couple of months, no matter how beautiful the shoes on the Irregular Choice website may be, they're going to have to stay there and I'm going to have to mourn the absence of them on my feet.

It's not just buying stuff for me that I love doing, I should point out.  Few things make me happier than splashing cash on people I love, too.  I get all excited when I see something I know one of my friends or family members would really love and the next thing you know, I'm typing out my debit card details on some website or other...

Now, before anyone starts to worry that I'm getting myself into debt and I'm one shopping spree away from a payday loan with an interest rate of 900000000%, fret not, my friends.  I'm ridiculously anal about money.  I save coins and pay them into my bank when I have £5 or £10.  I have not one, but two piggy banks for emergencies.  I have only ever been overdrawn twice in my life - once was due to someone else's mistake and it was rectified within an hour and the other time was when I went under by 20p the day before pay day, because a bill was taken out two days earlier than it was meant to be.  So, essentially, that wasn't my fault, either.  

I will only buy stuff if I can afford to, because I see no point in getting myself into trouble just for a pair of shoes, a pretty dress or a really amazing phone case (I NEED IT, OKAY?!).  I also do a budget every month to work out how much I have to spend on myself and I'm pretty strict about sticking to it.  If I can't afford it, I don't have it, simple as that.

So, actually closing the websites in my browser and walking away from the clothes shops won't be a problem.  I can do it.  

But that won't stop me window shopping.  It won't stop me wandering down to our local shoe shop to browse the pretty heels.  It won't stop me spending much too long on Amazon, looking for the most random of items.  My recent searches, in case you're wondering, have been for:

• Buffy The Vampire Slayer strappy tops
• Irregular Choice heels on sale (those shoes are an obsession)
• Interesting car stickers (what? WHY?!)
• Body spray variety packs
• Nail varnish sets
• Nerdy clothing
• Doctor Who shoes

and...

• Alcoholic milkshakes.  Don't judge me.

I figured that I can't be the only one with a compulsion to buy ALL THE THINGS, so I thought I'd share this with you guys, so you can either nod sagely in agreement or, alternatively, tut in judgement at my materialistic ways.  

EDIT: I emptied my coin jar and found enough to order the Phil phone case.  I AM ILL AND NEED TO CHEER MYSELF UP, OKAY?!

Send help.

Lack of Sunday Challenge due to WOE.

Today is supposed to be Sunday Challenge Day.  Instead, it...well, isn't.  Or at least, if I have issued a challenge to myself it is simply to try not to feel like crap.  Because this is me, right now, with added Eeyore-esque rain cloud floating above my head...

I know.  Sexy.

I am suffering from what I have decided to call "(wo)man flu."  It's basically a bad cold, but combined with my asthma, I currently feel as though a small elephant has decided to take up residence on my chest and my breathing is so heavy that I sound as though I'm making a dirty phone call.  I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself and so this week's Sunday Challenge has disappeared into the same mysterious place my sense of wellness has gone.  I'm hoping it'll be back next Sunday, because I've actually planned next week's challenge in advance and it's gonna be gooooood.  Yes, every single one of those Os were necessary,  In fact, I may go back and add a few more...

Unfortunately, coming down with a cold has not been the only crappy thing that has happened this week.  As you can see from the above photo, I no longer have a fringe.  Considering I have a forehead that could rival Ant McPartlin's, this is not something that occurred by choice.  

Those readers who know me in "real life" (I'm told such a place exists...) or who've been reading this blog for a long time (in which case, your long service medal is in the post) will know that when left to grow naturally, my hair is pretty much an Afro.  Yes, I am a weedy white girl with hair like Mel B.  Because when Mother Nature created me, she wanted to be sure there was nothing that couldn't be mocked, clearly.  In the interest of fairness, I'm going to post a photo of my hair looking au natural.  Shield your eyes if you're of as nervous disposition...

Yes I'm hugging a mannequin.  It was a phase I was going through...

And yes, in case you're wondering, my blog title - The Rambling Curl - is a reference to my untamed tresses.  Often, well-meaning people tell me how lucky I am to have such natural curls.  But believe me, when you walk into a hair salon and have stylists refuse to cut your hair because they don't "do" that type, you don't feel lucky.  When you have to spend a fortune on anti-frizz products, you don't feel lucky.  When you can't get your hair into any of the same, pretty styles your friends can, you don't feel lucky.  Eventually, I started relaxing it at home with a chemical straightener meant for black women with Afro hair.  My hair never went straight, but the curls got much looser and I was much happier.  Then, two years or so ago, I had it chemically straightened in a salon for the first time ever.  I was thrilled with the poker straight results and I've had it like that ever since.  Which is great.  Except it burns one heck of a hole in your wallet.

So, recently, noticing that my hair was curling at the roots and in need of a touch-up at the salon, but also noticing my lack of money to pay for a straighten, I ordered the product I used to use all those years ago (like, three, but ssshh, I like to sound dramatic).  Knowing that home-straightening kits can be all kinds of bad news for your hair, I opted to only leave it on for half the recommended processing time.  Thank goodness I did, because just 12 minutes later, when I came to wash the product off, I had no fringe.  It literally snapped off.  GOOD TIMES.  Not only that, but the ends of my hair were brittle and split.  I looked bloody awful.  So awful I could have cried.  And so I totally did.

Now, in case you're wondering why I'm not naming and shaming the product I used, it's because, in its defence, I think I may have used the wrong strength for my hair type.  My hair is very fine and I usually use the children's version, which I never had a single problem with.  This time, I used a super strength adult version, so the blame here is entirely on me, not the product.  And no, I didn't do a strand test, because I am an idiot from the planet NOBRAINS.

That was on Tuesday, so I was hoping my week would pick up.  Wrong.

I went to bed on Thursday night feeling pretty much okay, although a tad confused that I felt so stuffed, considering I hadn't really eaten much more than usual.  I woke up at ten to one in the morning, feeling really uncomfortable.  By ten past two, I was hunched over the toilet, wondering if literally my entire lower intestine was about to launch itself into the bowl.

Again, anyone who knows me in "real life" will tell you that I am majorly phobic about sickness.  If someone is sick around me, I panic and run away.  If I think I am going to be sick, I've been known to literally pace the floor, breathing like I'm in labour, mentally chanting "I CAN DO THIS.  I CAN BEAT THIS.  I WILL NOT BE SICK."  This usually happens moments before I throw my guts up.  It's a rather unfortunate and deeply unsuccessful ritual.

I was awake for the rest of the night, either sitting up in bed, groaning to myself (and mentally planning my funeral, because clearly I was dying) or rushing to the bathroom.  Not my favourite way to spend a night, it has to be said and one I don't fancy repeating any time soon.

I had already come down with this cold prior to the sickness bug, so it was a double whammy of infinite suckiness.  Although, once the sickness had subsided, I was at least able to enjoy the perks of being ill.  Namely, being in my pyjamas ALL THE TIME and lazing around in bed watching awesome DVDs:

"Roads?!  Where we're going, we don't need roads!"

Anyway, now I'm non-sicky, but very much, um, cold-y.  I'm going on holiday to Butlin's tomorrow for the week, so I'm stopping off at the doctors en route to be checked over in case I need steroids for my asthma.  And yes, I promise to try very hard not to breathe on any redcoats.  I don't want to ruin the end of their season, after all...

All that remains to be said is I am very, very sorry for the lack of a Sunday challenge this week, but this week has, in fairness, been pretty craptastic.

BUT...  Butlin's will provide me with two challenges to blog about over the next two Sundays.  I won't spoil the surprise (because I know you're on tenterhooks, right?  RIGHT?!), but I promise the Sunday Challenge will be reinstated next weekend.  

Unless I come down with anything else...  Ebola hasn't hit Cornwall yet, has it?!