I hate myself. No, really. I mean, I was there to buy birthday presents for Terry and my dad. But they were right there in front of me and they were so pretty, and they were £50 reduced to £20 and…gah.
In my defence, I walked around with them in my hand for an entire hour while I tried to talk myself out of wanting them. In fact, I was concentrating so hard on not wanting the shoes that I almost walked out of the shop without paying for the thing I’d bought my dad for Father’s Day, and it’s a good job the sales assistant saw the funny side of that.
It’s like an illness with me, I swear. I just can’t help myself. I see shoes, I buy shoes. I can’t afford shoes, but hey! It’s like Carrie from Sex and the City said, "I will literally be the old woman who lived in her shoes." I am SO not joking here. HATE myself.