I need a job.
Actually, what I need is money, and since I'm not so keen on prostitution and drug dealing, getting a job seems the best way to do this.
I'm sick. Not physically, oh no, I'm fit as a fiddle. What I suffer from is Hyper reality. No girlfriend, I did not make that up.
Ever since I started watching Gossip Girl, and 90210, and all the other tv shows I would never admit to watching if you confronted me, I have begun measuring my own standard of living by their standard of living. Them being the TV characters. Not even the people who act them, but the people inside the TV.
I know I sound insane, but I can't help it! When I go to the mall and my friend says "Oh this dress would look so hot on you," I take one look and say "Serena would never wear that." When my cousin points at a guy and says "Oh, he's a cutie!" I take one look and say, "Oh him? He doesn't compare to Nate." My cousin looks at me baffled and says, "Huh? Whose Nate?" And I sheepishly hang my head, and mumble "Some kid from school."
So recently I have been looking through my wardrobe and I realized that NOTHING I own would be worn by the girls that go to Constance Billard. (Please don't ask.) So my sense of style has changed dramatically, much to the dismay of my mother's pocketbook.
She has realized that she can no longer take me shopping because my style now leans towards Very Expensive. Plus the economy.
Anywho. A girl of seventeen on the social scene of the Upper East Side (please don't point out I live in the Pacific Northwest) needs a wardrobe, and since my mother won't pay for it, the burden now lies on my shoulders.
So that is why I have to get a job.
So I can fit in with the people on TV.
My mother says that it's not a job I need, but therapy.
Retail therapy, anyone?