Stroppy Cow

This has been one of those weird weeks where I don’t feel like myself. Something seems off. I have also been told countless times I look tired, pasty and unhappy. And yet I am not doing anything different. In fact I have had some discoveries.

Firstly I discovered that some cars can mount pavements and the drivers can park in spaces less than a minute away from their homes. Some cars try to mount the pavement, roll off, try again and then hear tyres being damaged. Then said car and its driver are forced to driver around for what seems like an eternity looking for another parking space. In the end it’s like you have parked in an entirely different suburb and then still have to make the pilgrimage to your flat. Can you guess which car I have.

I also found out which is worse, bad hair day, fat day and bad skin day. Bad hair days are manageable. So are fat days. But nothing can compare to a bad skin day. When your hair is going all wiggy, you can still wear a hat, attempt a chic chignon or do a messy pony tail. When you’re having a fat day, you can wear your period pants or a dress and at least look a little better. When you have a monster pimple on your face you lose all will to live. Or at least I do. It feels like people are constantly looking at chin and shuddering. My face, overnight, has become the poster child for anti-acne products. My poor concealer is working overtime.

I’m going to stop with the woe-is-me thing in a minute. Mostly because I hate when people call you tired when you’ve had a good eight hours sleep. But also because I’m going to treat myself to a Vida trip. I feel like I deserve a latte. Not that I ever needed a reason to have a coffee break before but it’s so much nicer when you “feel” like you have earned.

Have a great afternoon! It’s almost time for the weekend!

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!