My cheeky, but oh-so-correct girlfriend A has hit the nail on the head (well, at least my nail) with her latest post Nice Girls Don't Talk About Money.
Now, Suze Orman I am not (as evidenced by my teetering piles of credit card bills and the fact that I didn't even look up what sort of interest rates I was paying until this morning), but I like to think of myself as a relatively civilized, evolved woman. I am smart. I am relatively good-enough looking that people don't look at me funny in Starbucks. (Well, they do, but it's the tattoos, not my face, that has them a bit out of sorts.) I have graduate degrees under my belt. I have a personal library of more volumes than most people own in entire lifetimes. All in all, I am a normal(ish) late-twenties woman. But I have to admit, that I often fall into the trap of wishing I had someone I could hand my check over to and trust to get my bills paid properly. As long as he gave me a book allowance, of course. A woman has to have her goodies.
So, go read PinkandChocolateBrown, best and wittiest blog on the block. Take A's advice to heart, get yourself on a proper budget, and let's stop waiting for the guy on the white horse to show up and save us. Besides, no men ride horses anymore, really. At least not to your doorstep. And you know what comes with a man on a horse? Great, big, steaming piles of...well, you get it.
I'll let you know how financial rehab goes for me if you'll let me know how it goes for you. (Here's to hoping we do a better job than Britney and Lindsey. Eesh.) Credit cards, be afraid....be very afraid!