In 17 days I’m going to be 22 and I find birthday’s have become a confusing time.
On the one hand – YAY – an excuse for cake and feeling special and a night out with everyone you love and a bottle of champers if you’re feeling extravagant (not too extravagant I haven’t tasted above the cheapest stuff on the shelf)
On the other hand – NAY – every year brings with it a new load of people who expect you to know what you want to do with your life. As if the changing of the second number of your age makes life so much clearer!
But, putting those people aside, I need a few things… PRESENTS!
My last watch survived so much, but lost it’s battle when I took a bath and forgot to take it off. Olivia Burton watches are the prettiest thing and not too expensive!
And if you saw the state of my make-up brushes you would recoil in horror (plus these Real Technique ones are so pretty and pretty pricey.)
I need my gym membership back big time. 6 months ago I was all “the world is my gym” and “road running, yeah!” but here we are 6 months later and I have run on no roads.
The only other thing I want is a funded trip to Waterstones. I have an unhealthy obsession with books. I read them for pleasure. I read them for my degree. I try to force other people to read them. I am a book pusher. Being let loose in a book shop with a gift card is my dream. *cough* hint *cough*
And that is all I want for my birthday… please don’t judge my materialistic ways.