Numbers

We’re all so caught up with numbers; whether it’s how many days are left until Christmas, the price of presents or the amount we’re hoping to receive – we can’t stop counting. But it’s not only Christmas, its everything. Looking over my past week i’ve realised that everything has a time, everything has a a deadline and every little number is important – and it’s pissing me off.

I mean i’m not pissed off at everything, I understand numbers are important – I just hate the stigma behind them. The idea that if you don’t achieve certain numbers, if they’re too high or too low that you’re in the wrong or not good enough.

You might be a bit confused, like I haven’t posted since June and now i’m angry about math, but there’s a reason behind this post I promise. As I said, my past week has been a little bit of a terrible one – my wisdom tooth has only just ended it’s three week torture-fest on me and i’ve got uni work up to my ears.

And that’s just it isn’t it, because it costs 150 of the queens English POUNDS to get a wisdom tooth removed and if I don’t keep getting at least 2:1’s then what’s the point in university (you see what I mean, numbers). Not only that, but I go to the gym and my eyes are fixed on the amount of calories I burn and I look in the mirror after and imagine what other women may have done in that moment considering their 38k Instagram followers (numbers, numbers).

Now it’s not all about vanity, or education. It’s about the pressure and the need to check my time sheet every time I clock into work to make sure i’ve worked enough hours, to then make sure i’m getting paid enough. To be biting my fingernails waiting for payday to try and get out of my dead-end overdraft (which by the way, will never bloody happen) so that I can pay for food (but only at Morrisons, cause I get 10% off). NUMBERS.

So here’s the stickler though, you might be driving yourself absolutely MAD and trying your hardest to ignore those horrible numbers, and then other people start contributing their all-so-important opinion.

Because you see, it matters personally to them if you spend so much on a pair of shoes, have slept with x amount of people or have more money in your account than them. It matters enough to them to voice their opinions and make you feel bad, or second guess and think ‘maybe I didn’t need that pair of shoes’ or, ‘I could have spent that on something important’ (and ignored the horror that is Pryzm on a Wednesday).

My point is that they’re all just numbers and I hate numbers; and when you really think about it, the only one that really matters is the one that points out that i’m only 20 years into my life – so it won’t matter that I bought the shoes, have slept with x amount of people or only have about £50 to my name.

Because by 2017 (scary number), none of that will matter. So instead of being pissed off, i’ll write about it on my blog and analyse the number of people that read the post.

(Oh, and if you found the reason behind this post, the trigger for writing it since I kind of tried to hide it, well done you).

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