How To Pay Your Taxes
HAIR ISN’T TAX DEDUCTIBLE!? Where in my 12 years of primary education did we cover taxes? I took high school economics against my will AND I LEARNED NOTHING. Now I have to figure out a mix of numbers and letters and try not to have Uncle Sam rob my pockets of money I DON’T HAVE. W-2? W-9? 1099-MSC? What are these? What do they mean? Apparently they mean I’m broke as hell and that I’m not nearly as smart as I think I am. I’m going to take to the streets. NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION. Where’s the tar and feathers? What do rich people drink? I’m dumping it into the harbor (jk, I care about the environment)!
As a freelancer and also an independent business, taxes are really taking a toll on me. Can I petition the IRS for mental health anguish? Because I’m feeling it. I know tax codes because I am wildly entertained by rip-offs (Fyre Festival was a GIFT to my boredom), but this is the first time I’m not paying someone to do my taxes and I have to rely on the dumb bitch that is me to do them herself. I have multiple sources of income, which is mad cool when I say it to people (because I sound like an intellectual BADASS, do I not?), but is mad confusing when it comes to tax season. I’m also in school. I also don’t make very much money, which may come as a surprise to you out there. I live well below the poverty line; I just own a LuluLemon yoga mat.
Freelancing is NOT the business. And because my line of work (modeling, woopity-doo) is so on and off (I ain’t Bella Hadid out here), I write on the side to supplement my income i.e. make it so I can pay rent four days late. Had I known this shit would send me to the bread lines, I would’ve picked something else. DON’T FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS. DO NOT PASS GO. DEFINITELY DO NOT COLLECT 200 DOLLARS.
On top of all of this, I live in LOS ANGELES, you guys. Selling one of my kidneys would only sustain my checking account for MAYBE a year and that’s stretching it. It’s expensive as all hell. Housing, food, parking, gas (and I drive a freakin’ Volkswagen Jetta!). It’s all a racket.
I once paid 575 full United States dollars for a haircut here. Were my luscious locks chopped by the blessed hands of Jesus? No, but judging by the price, it’s beyond ludicrous that they weren’t. If the people of Los Angeles have anything, it’s the fucking nerve. And while my agency TOLD ME TO DO IT and that I had to cut and bleach this shit for work, I can’t write that off on my taxes. Does Kendall Jenner get to write it off on her taxes? NO, because that broad DOESN’T PAY TAXES.
And yeah, yeah, I’m well aware of the privilege I have. I get it, ok? But like, let me complain for a hot second. It’s hard out here for a pimp. It’s also hard out here for a me. Should I have pursued something else and settled in a different place? Probably. That isn’t my reality, though. My reality is that I’m having to do taxes in the bedroom I rent on the Wi-Fi I steal from my neighbors (they’re on my gas bill so it evens out). I never learned how to do this shit.
Will someone Venmo me so I can buy Kleenex? I need to wipe up my tears.
