I don’t like to use inflammatory language. Strike that – I love using inflammatory language, but I constantly fight against that love because I am well aware that it is usually damaging. Words have power.

So that’s why I didn’t use the title for the blog I originally wanted to use, which was, “You know You’re a Po’ Girl When…”

Whoops. Did I just say that out loud?

Anyway, my point is that I don’t want to call myself the “p” word. (No, not that word, dummy! The one ending in “-oor!”) And yet… relative to the financial state I am used to enjoying (i.e. some type of income flowing regularly into our household from some avenue or another, so that at the very least an occasional night out at the movies doesn’t feel like we are scraping together funds to fly to Africa), lately, things around here have gotten a bit… how shall I put this delicately… Jacked up.

For example: I can’t afford a new bra right now. That said, all of my bras are about 80 years old. And, miraculously, I lost a bit of weight recently. The problem with those 2 facts (other than freezing all day long), is that with my small boobs, no matter how tight I make them, my bras just slip right up to my collarbones if I’m not sitting still.

Solution? I’ve fastened safety pins about 2 ½  inches up from the regular loops (towards the underarm), and now I hook the bra hooks into the safety pin in order to keep the bra snug.

Like I said. Jacked up.

And then, there’s my pajamas bottoms. Grey, flannel, soft, warm… perfect. And, recently… broken; the tie that pulls the elastic around my waist snapped.

Yeah. Safety pin time. Gets a little hairy in the middle of the night when I have to pee and forget it’s there. But so far, no major accidents.

And… the long sleeve shirt I’m wearing right now has a hole. Earlier today, I hooked it over my thumb and pretended it was a Lululemon-style shirt. Then I noticed another hole a few inches down from my thumb. Dang it.

Keep your fingers crossed for me, readers! Or, better yet? Save me some of your safety pins.

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

What, you thought I was exaggerating? And don't even get me started on those bleached out, fraying bed sheets...