Suffocating in Suburbia – The next day.

Made a point of getting a good night sleep.  Tucked myself into bed at 9:30pm, only to spend most of the night dreaming I was one of Justine Timberlake’s groupies.  In my dream I didn’t want Justin to think I was ‘just like the others’ so I played hard to get…now where did THAT come from, I ask you?

Being ripped from a dream by a wakeup alarm is never good…but I had decided to try and pull myself out of my slump.  Jump in the shower, wash that misery right out of my hair.  Then I did something stupid.  I know, I have done other stupid things, but this was really stupid.  I stood on the bathroom scales.  Misery has added 2 kilo Aaaaaggghhhhh!  I have been comfort eating.  Funny how we think those tidbits eaten in the cool light of the refrigerator door don’t count.

Determined not to let it get to me, I shook out my freshly washed hair and bravely tried to copy the style I had when I returned home from the salon not so long ago.  Styling hair is not one of my strong suits… I ended up looking like this:

dame-edna 

Yes… REALLY like that, sans the purple tint and the glasses.  It was not a good look.  Vigorous brushing didn’t help and I finally gave up, what the hell!  Life goes on.  I can go though life with weird granny hair, a spare tyre and STILL think that Justin Timberlake has eyes ONLY for me.

Then it was off to investigate a store I had seen in a catalogue, one of the million or so that are shoved through the post box each week.  The photos displayed a promise of stylish clothing at a somewhat reasonable price.  LIARS!  that is all I can say…LIARS!  Nothing in that store lived up to any of the pictures in the catalogue.  Most of the pants had elastic waists and even with my 2 extra kilo, I am not going down that path yet.  The whole place had a vague scent of Eau de Sweat Shop about it… I did try on one pair of pants… but the mirror seemed to take my 2 extra kilo and make me look like something should not be seen in daylight.  Not pretty.

sweatshop

There was nothing for it but to head home.  On the way back to the car, I thought about the salad I was going to make myself for lunch and the long hike I had planned for this afternoon.  Then, from behind a counter, this jumped out and into my mouth:

slice

Resistance is futile…. abandon ship. LuLu and children first.

PS Scary thing is… this is a true story.

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