It. Is. My. Turn.
We all know about the Struggle. We do. We live it, write about it and light candles to pray for the stopping of it. The struggle is exhausting, and sometimes, all the hard work and millions of little dreams just elude the overcoming of the Struggle.
So the Lotto win is the next big thing. Have tried it at times, and weirdly, at times taken a ticket and never looked to see if I won anything – have you done that? ‘Perhaps winning something ticket’ lies in my purse until I tear it up, too arsed to see if a pound richer I am. Useless. So I reckon, if I appeal to everyone on the planet earth to stop playing the Lotto, just for a little spell, I have a chance. I need to win that Lotto, and my reasons are pure. They are:
- I reckon I earned it. Have dealt with the Struggle more than most of late. Lotto will reward me for the Struggle.
- In the eddy of Struggle, I have had to make do with Boots generic face products. This is sad to say the least. Trés sad. I believe darling Helen Mirren says ‘f…king’ helps little all those moisturisers but it feels SO good to have expensive creams on the wrinkly face. Bits of gold leaf in neck cream is awesome.
- Need new gym clothes. I don’t go to the gym but wearing them around the house makes me feel healthy. Haute couture gym clothes is all for working on the laptop.
- Googling exotic destination holidays on waitron salary is fatal to the soul. A la masochistic mode. A little Lotto booty will take me from Southfields to the South of France and we all know, a girl needs the Cote d’Azur for uber wellness.
- Mermaid Honda Jazz is sick. She is valiant, but sick. Ignore anyone who says it’s fine – trying to outsmart a Range Rover Vogue is not only frightening but makes us feel like Thomas the tank engine next to Gordon the Big. I need Range Rover injection.
- Surrounded by big city fashion labels. I don’t really like fashion labels (bullies all of you) but sneaking into Primark is random stuff. Just once, just once, Lotto can get me the Loro Piana, Hermes and wine – circa made by monks with no screw top.
- Letting someone else struggle with the unruly Macbeth hags hair.
- Foregoing Ryan Air dehumanisation in favour of turning left on British Airways.
- Allow for setting up trust funds for my children with great titles that sound important.
- Centre court tickets at Wimbledon. Tennis is not my passion but centre court sounds so grand.
- Being told, of course you may have a table, and not being lied to about full bookings because you ask for a table for one.
- Charity. Being able to share the Lotto with others rather than thinking, sorry mate, I have beans for the rest of the month myself.
And you know what? I don’t want the millions – seriously – it brings it’s own headaches and heartaches, but a little extra would be welcome.
And you know what? If I won, I would most likely give it all to my children. Actually more in love with the packaging of Uber brands than spending money on the items themselves. Have no need for yachts or watches, sports cars or holiday homes.
Just want the feeling of saying … maybe I could.
Truth be told … very happy with what the Struggle has made of me, the great opportunities presented and the drive created. But, and I say but … a little of the Lotto would be nice.
So again, stop playing all you lovely people – this dame needs a windfall of possibilities.
You can play again, say in a month or two. And if the saying that every draw creates six winners of millions and I figure this has being going on for a while, surely the odds are in my favour if you all desist for a while …
PS if I win, having taken two tickets tonight, I shall share it with the first person who tells me how winning will change their lives, in the most interesting way, for the better.
PS – if you believe that I love you, but seriously, a little for the information.