The Bill Bitches

Published August 16, 2016 by WELCOME TO HEIDI

After years of struggling and suffering in silence – I have finally done what millions of women around the world have been doing for years. Something I previously thought I’d never succumb to. I got myself a husband. No, not the good kind that tells you you look pretty when you have a new dress on or the kind you have sex with – but the bad kind – the kind that questions you every time you open your wallet. I got myself the kind of partner that makes you hide your shopping bags, think twice before you hit the “add to cart button” and move money around like a mobster with a secret Swiss Bank account. I got myself the kind of husband that rides you like a show pony on it’s last race trying to squeeze that final amount of sweat out of you before you hit the glue factory. Yes, I got myself a business manager.

 

Earlier this year I decided that I didn’t want to die broke and realized that I needed to stop the hemorrhaging that is my spending – and finally bite the bullet that’s already in the chamber of the gun pointed at my head.  Now this manager – aka my husband – is primarily a group of brilliant women – but make no mistake about it – they are doing the hard work only an asshole husband can do – saying no every time I want something pretty. If I buy anything – a dress, a yogurt, a thumb tack – they call, send an email, a text, or a fucking smoke signal if they have to – to get me to return it if it wasn’t a necessary purchase. You try to explain why a gold tube top from Zara is a necessary purchase.

 

Now, my job as a television writer means I make a very decent amount of money – but it also means there are times when I make zero amounts of money – like the last four months of my life when my tv job went on what network people like to call “hiatus” but what I call “poor decision making and planning of the network budget and running out of cash before all your shows are picked.” So here I was thinking I was going back to work after just a couple of months of “vacation” which has suddenly stretched into many months of vacation – which means my “savings nut” was less “nut” more “crumb” – and the lockdown on my accounts has been fast and furious. They took it all the motherfuckers. They took it all. Then they put me on an allowance. Now I don’t know about you people but you can’t buy shit on an allowance. The last time I had one I had to make the Sophies choice of gum cigarettes or lollipop and I’m not capable of making that kind of decision again. I finally had the entire summer off and I had nothing to make that summer – enjoyable. This budget was no bullshit. I had to fire my dog walker and actually walk my own dog. Can you fucking imagine? And I had to stop buying luxuries like 7 dollar yogurt. And the worst – I had to stop shopping for clothing I already owned that was actually in my over crowded closet but I couldn’t see it. It was almost too much for one woman to handle. This was like a death blow to me. And that’s not the worst of it – because the business managers could also actually see every penny I spent because they had access to all my accounts. THEY CAN SEE WHAT I SPEND MY MONEY ON. “What’s Perrennial Holistic?” they asked. “It’s medicine” I said. “It’s weed” one of the smart women said. IF YOU TAKE WEED OFF MY BUDGET WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE. It was going to get ugly and it was getting there fast. I needed a cash flow they couldn’t see or monitor. And so I started selling things. It was small at first – an old shoe here – a pair of too big pants there – but then it got ugly – the first time I sold a piece of Louis Vuitton.   Bells rang. Alarms went off. Signals were sent to other buyers on the website I was selling on – “There’s a small desperate woman online folks and she’s dropping Louis at low prices!!!” Boom! Sold a wallet! Boom! Sold a handbag! Boom! Sold a suitcase! Holy shit I’m making money hand over fist. I probably only made 1000 dollars over the whole summer but the secret joy I felt hiding this money from those bastards trying to clean up my financial life was thrilling. I was winning this shit show – so there!!! Sadly the Louis ran out before I got to do anything exciting with my secret cash flow but it was fun while it lasted.

All of this has made me realize one very important thing. I have too much shit. Duh.  I now have three weeks before I head back to work and I’m currently trying to figure out how to make 145 dollars last. If you see me in Bali dancing around in a sari with a henna tattoo – please know that I haven’t figured it out – but my Louboutins have finally hit the resale rack.

11 comments on “The Bill Bitches

  • One question: how do you sell used clothes? Are there really people who buy used clothes online? Okay, second question: how does a retired man find a business manager? I completely understand your situation. During my working years, I always made more than I spent, and was able to set aside a fair amount of savings. Not that I’m retired, I am having to curb my enthusiasm for the latest and greatest gizmo … and I don’t like it. Self discipline is a muthah.

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