When I was 16 and I could no longer work out how scam any more cash from my Mother I turned to crime.
Ok, that’s a exaggeration (Sort of).
My body was still trying to work out how to be a fully grown woman and shopping for swimsuits was the depths of hell.
Then I found one.
A swimsuit that didn’t make me look like I had a glandular problem.
I nicked it and I was over the moon.
Not only had I managed to get away with the crime but I had a brilliant swimsuit, which in my tiny teenage mind meant that I would no longer be bullied by all the thin girls at school and that someone might have sex with me. RESULT.
I immediately went home, put it on and went to Clovelly beach. In my hurry to gain entry to the water I lost my footing on the algae covered step and fell directly onto a sharp rock.
I punctured not only my my lovely new stolen swimsuit but also my bottom.
Instant fucking karma.
I’d like to say I’ve never stolen again but that would be a lie.
I’ve stolen twice more. Once was last week.
I am experiencing the guilt and waiting for the karma as I type.
*Footnote* My most recent theft was a candle from a pub whilst intoxicated. Thank you for all the calls/concern/requests to stage an intervention. I’ll be good now. Promise.