Gonna use it up, gonna wear it out...

The above is my New Year's Resolution, though it's possibly more important or indeed urgent that I shake my body down.

It's a good resolution, being a) aligned with the zeitgeist and b) something I haven't got much choice about, as my personal finances are bumping along the bottom at present. That's a year of working three days a week without drinking noticeably less for you.

I've been doing the use it up part for a while already. I'm managing well on one giant bottle of shampoo and one of conditioner (ok, so I buy my hair stuff at Neals Yard, so not the cheapest, but that's not *quite* what this is about) at a time, which I carefully decant into smaller bottles for the shower, for swimming and for travelling. I am also running three simultaneous tubes of moisturiser, but I bought them on a 3 for 2 and I got the 2 on my Boots Advantage card points, so that was £75 of facial product on the back of years of previous feckless purchasing. Go me!

And there's something very satisfying about using stuff up. It's going well in the kitchen too, though I did chuck out a rock hard box of Aunt Bessie's pancake mix the other day. I am not sure who bought it, but I suspect it was someone who doesn't live here anymore.

Wearing things out can also be very pleasing. I have worn out my pillowcases! I've never done that before. I've also worn out my orange pyjamas. I've never done that before either. (This gives some indication of how much time I spend in bed, which also needs to be addressed, but one thing at a time). But I think my underwear drawer took my resolution too literally, as in no time at all after I'd made it holes appeared in pretty much everything.

There was nothing else for it: I had to Go Bra Shopping. Fortunately, I had some M&S vouchers lurking in my wallet for just such an occasion, so I girded my loins and headed for the lingerie department.

My word, buying bras is a whole different prospect these days. Last time I did it seriously, they were all still in boxes, with the little cups on the top of the display and the big ones on the bottom. I shared gloomy looks of solidarity with other large breasted women as we crawled round on the floor scrabbling for that elusive E cup that didn't look like it was designed in Soviet Russia.

It's all changed. Racks of multicoloured flimsiness stretch into the distance. A disturbing amount of it could have been tagged 'slutty', and an astounding proportion of the bras were padded, even the big ones, but I persevered, and emerged from the changing rooms with four suitable garments, two very comfortable, and two slightly less comfortable but presentable enough to be worn under things that might show them a bit.

Given Jeremy Paxman's complaints about the quality of M&S underwear (and the hundreds of people who seem to agree with him), I wonder how long it will take me to wear these ones out.

joella