The Inner Brat

There comes a point every Christmas when I get exceedingly bored of shopping for other people. My Inner Brat awakens from her tomb of selfishness and tries to put the halt on everything that’s not geared up towards feeding her ever hungry soul.

But this year I was firm with her. There comes a time in every brat’s life when she learns that she just can’t always get what she wants.

Only kidding. She’s almost 29 years old, there’s no way I can fix her behaviour now.

One thing that was different however was my resilience to getting out the plastic. If the Brat wanted things, she was going to have to pay for them herself. Mr Barclaycard was not going to be funding her excessive wants.

Luckily for the Brat I found some pennies. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before but in case you’re new around these here parts, I’ll fill you in on my excellent saving tip. At the end of the week, or every couple of days, or whenever I feel like it, I empty out everything that’s in my purse. I put the £2 and £1 coins back in it and everything else goes in a piggy bank. Occasionally, if I’m feeling particularly flush I’ll stick the £1 coins in there as well (that happened, like, once). It can take a while depending on how skint I am that month and how many times I raid it to get bus fare but sooner than you think you have a nice little money pot that you can do with as you wish. And because it’s silver it adds up to much more than you would think.

I noticed that piggy was getting kind of full. Normally I would wait until you can’t fit any more in but I decided it was close enough and it was Christmas after all so took it off to the bank to be deposited (there’s a branch of my bank that has a coin counting machine in it so you just dump it all in there and it deposits it straight into your account. MAGICAL.) and before I knew it, the Brat had some shiny pennies in her grubby little mitts.

Off Brat skipped to Manchester with The Person to spend money on herself. She was almost beside herself and upon entering River Island went into paroxysms of delight (RI is going through an awesome phase at the minute. But it seriously needs to stop putting so many cropped tops on its racks – we’re not all size 6 seventeen year olds thank you very much). She holed herself up in a changing room to try on all the clothes and declared that she wanted everything but I decided that she should probably be restricted to just this top, this skirt, and another pencil skirt which is green and awesome but is inexplicably not on RI’s website.

She also went to Waterstones and bought the last books until 2013 (every time I write/say that it makes me throw up a little you know) – she might be a Brat but she does at least like reading so I don’t like to discourage her too much. She tried to be good and choose between this book and this book but then she decided she’d just get both. Oh you funny little Brat you.

And so she was sorted. She had some new clothes to wear, she had some new books to read, she was quite the happy Inner Brat and, more importantly, she hadn’t broken the bank in her selfish ways.

Christmas and New Year passed and it was with some trepidation that I typed in my ID and password to have a look at the havoc that had been wreaked on my bank account, it’s always such a painful time of year and I braced myself and squinted at the screen in an attempt to minimise the shock. But actually, surprise of all surprises, it wasn’t that bad. In fact it was much better when I realised that some direct debits that I thought were still to come out, had already come out. Well done me. I think it’s still the shock of readjusting to having a fair bit of extra income each month now that my Career Development Loan has been paid back but it was looking pretty good.

It just so happens that at the same time I was having a little browse on the Schuh website when I chanced across some Irregular Choice shoes in the sale.

I groaned inwardly because I knew that if I’d seen it, then the Inner Brat had almost certainly seen it and she would start up her tattoo of “Want it. Want it. Want it. Want it. Want it.” inside my poor little brain. I managed to resist it for 3 whole days but Bratty just would not leave it alone and kept demanding that I return to the website because how often do you find Irregular Choice shoes in the sale that you like and are your size (if you happen to be a size 8)? Answer? Never. (Seriously. IC must make about 2 pairs of shoes that are a size 8, and man alive are they a small size 8 at that, it’s hard enough to get them at full price, never mind reduced.)

The Brat did make a compelling argument that went something along the lines of this:

a) They’re reduced so it would almost be a crime not to buy them

b) They have a low heel so you can wear them when you’re with The Person and not feel like a Gigantosaur

c) They’re awesome

d) I’m awesome and deserve it

It was inevitable really.

Brat is now officially silenced. Until next Christmas...



And yes. I was so excited to get them I took photos of them whilst I was at work. THAT is how much I loved them.