I think it's fair to say I have an unhealthy obsession with Sex and the City, hours and hours are spent with the girls arguing about who is who? I stand by my argument that I'm a Charlotte but others would say I'm a Carrie. Who doesn't get excited about the prospect of galavanting around New York or any city for that matter, drinking cosmopolitans, buying copious amounts of Manolos, having countless dates with the city's rich bachelors and then discussing the pros and cons of the date with the girls over breakfast! Sounds pretty good doesn't! But now after much consideration I feel I am more Bridget Jones that Carrie Bradshaw. I spend far too much time in my pyjamas, waking up fully dressed after downing cheap vodka with friends, complaining about terrible jobs and lack of dating life!
Admittedly we probably all have a Mr Big, I'm told about mine far too often and I have to say I'm not particularly happy about it, but you never know after ten years and two films it might work out? But we're probably more likely to have a Daniel Cleaver, that douche bag you just can't stay away from and are still very much hoping for Mark Darcey.
We remain unable to budget and often end up putting our foot in it. How many of us would prefer a night in with a cheap bottle of Spar wine and a giant tub of Ben and Jerry's in pyjamas than dragging our asses out to the latest hotspot in our brand new Prada to scout the bar for talent an free drinks! It's a toss up that's for sure!
It's sad to say but I'm definitely more spanks than Manolo's at the minute!
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