Must. Stop. Shopping.

Seriously.

Yes, I may be a working girl now, but that doesn't mean it's not still three weeks until I'm in the financial black - as opposed to this season's black, which is purple, which I am in, thanks to my latest little spending attack.

I try, I do. My plan this morning was to quickly pop to the shops to return a pair of shoes that I'd bought on a whim and since decided I probably won't wear after all (all very spendthrifty of me). I had every intention of dashing in and out, my purse slightly heavier upon my exit for a change.

Whoops. Returned the shoes ... and picked up a dress and some leggings. Then I popped to Woollies for a 'quick look' at their sale. I should know better. Left with pair of sandals and a really cute white top. That weren't on sale. And I can't even wear until summer.

I'm usually so good at living cheaply - I mean, I've had to, what with the joblessness and so on. But lately, I seem to be on a never-ending run of finding items I just have to have (you know how it goes). Most of them are pretty cheap, or on sale, but still, I have to stop sometime, before I end up like Isla Fisher's character in Confessions of a Shopaholic. Only not so pretty, not a redhead, and probably with a less happy ending.

I think - and here comes a psychological theory - that with winter and near-insolvency making me reluctant to go out partying and spend my money on booze and taxis, I'm drowning my sorrows in material things like clothes and shoes.

And really, what better way is there?

Besides, always having something in my cupboard that still has it's tags on means that, so far, I've managed to avoid any sartorial meltdowns before work. Which is worth running up a little debt for, isn't it?