Let me tell you this people, there are people who are shiny and happy and professional looking without a hair out of place who say things like oh it's no effort whatsoever (Liars) those who are the same but at least admit to giving up an hour of sleep to look perfect and then there are the bone idle who choose sleep over everything else... and then there is me, who just can't be arsed... that being said even I have a base level of standards... not that you would know it. For example I may go to work with my clothes backwards, inside out or indeed smelling of substances (it was ONE time people) and occasionally torn but I do not arrive in hot pants, one because I don't actually fit into my hot pants any more and even if I did I don't think looking at my camel toe is something anyone wants to do; or for that matter evidence my muffin tops hanging out the sides either. Also because I am not a stripper / pole dancer / other hot pant stereotype (Kylie?) and because age has snuck up on me and my hot pant days are officially over. Well aside from when I know Girl Child has friends over and I'm trying to intentionally be the embarrassing parent or want to do the milkshake dance (yes I really do that for kicks).
Now I was brought up in a household where there wasn't a dress code, mainly because my mother purchased all my clothes (tartan, plaid and velvet from memory) and also because I was spoiled enough to have them laid out every morning (No not like hand maidens) however there was rule which I attempt to apply to everyday life... boobs or legs never both. Which having only ever having legs (which at secondary school a boy told me were thunder thighs and called me elephant legs every day) and just penny's on an ironing board was never really an issue. Until now, in recent years I have lets just say bloomed in the bosom department which when all my mates were like "yada yada back ache, losing stuff (including boyfriends) in there and other negatives, I didn't understand and now I do. Trust me I found half a kit kat down there on Monday... As always I digress, so I got up on time; meaning that mum came bursting into my bedroom in her post waking up stupor and waffled about weeds while sniffing at my seedlings before passing out, which made me feel like it probably was time to get up. Selected my outfit in a no thought just whack it on, black and black with pink and orange always goes right? And before you also sniff... actually it does... or would if you hadn't gone to a very professional meeting without paying attention to aforementioned bosoms:
Now I was going to take a selfie of this so you could truly understand my scenario but then realized that, that would be probably porn and a belfie... I mean when did this happen to this frock? Did I have one of my drunken moments in which I announced that none of my clothes fit so either took some kind of hallucinogenic trip to a stripper boutique (possible) or did I decided after (still probably drunk) an episode of the great British sewing bee to alter all of my clothes? because I'm willing to admit that I have put on weight but not that this frock EVER looked like this before...
So by the time it dawned on my that my puppies did not really need to be on display anymore than my belly button to excuse myself to the toilet... please bear in mind that I do in fact now own an emergency sewing kit but I could hardly get that out mid meeting while announcing I was going to the little girls room could I? So I did the only sensible thing a person could do...
YUP I put the dress on backwards in order to solve the problem...also used own teeth to bite out label because that way no one would ever know! and returned to the meeting. Several problems with this plan is that a) when looking in the mirror I did acknowledge that I did look a bit ninja like and that actually now the frock covered half of my face and that b) when one is me and looks in the mirror the only part that I'm considering is my front half.... it doesn't take a genius to work out that if your belly button and bosoms were on show when you had the dress the right way round that your ass is probably on full view through the glass windows of meeting room to an entire floor of other professionals when you turn it around. Fortunately for me this didn't actually occur to me until I was walking back to my car and the builders gave me the whistle. Foolishly V smug about this as you can imagine thinking how many years it was since anyone actually whistled at me randomly until it did dawn on me, which I decided to rectify by doing a sideways crab walk to hide my indecency which only promoted the frontal ninja, ass hanger look. Took detour to supermarket with sewing kit to rectify the problem...Admittedly not a complete triumph especially since bosom threatened to bust through frock for the rest of the day, which interestingly is very distracting when trying to be professional but mind is focused on how to sit or not sit to prevent this from actually happening.
So as if that wasn't enough I then went to have a look around a service, you know introduce myself make some contacts, network even like a real grown up, which is when I met the manager of said service and I'm prattling along in the boob buster dress (trying not to bust) when he finally interrupts me to me that he is in fact my old bosses husband.... which is when I want the ground to swallow up and eat me alive since I spent the last 20 mins of that half hour telling him why I left my last job... Now really looking forward to next set of meetings, which are monthly and mandatory - oh look its tits Maloney or ass girl you know the one who hates her job (dammit). On top of that for some reason (I HAVE NO IDEA WHY) when he was asking about why I like to be called Tabs I made the "pussy joke" (CRINGE) so that's probably going to add to the thank god she left the last job shes clearly insane list.
Also word to the wise, if you have insane taste in music of the offensive variety don't play it at full volume with your windows open, when you are at work - don't ask just trust me on this.
In other news I have been of late listening to Scott Mills of the Radio 1 variety (other radio stations are available) and enjoying his section on sleep apps. SO of course I had to get it and I had to test the theory last night.... which naturally led to an argument with hubby (in a good natured no you, no you kind of way). WELL turns out that for how much I talk in the day I don't do that much talking at night, but what I do do is scream weird noises followed by breathing heavily afterwards while hubby yells "bed space bed space" in the background...I did ask if there was naughtiness (that I may not recall) or if he was trying to kill me in his sleep but he swears blind that neither of these things is true.... think I may have to keep recording just in case... If I hadn't deleted that baby I would have put it on here...
In other news I took great pleasure in getting the opportunity to drive past my mum on her way to work and hanging out of the window making an L sign on my head and screaming Loser to the amusement of the rest of the village. She's not due home for another hour or so but if I go AWOL it's either her or the hubby...
No comments:
Post a Comment