Tuesday, 10 May 2011


I got back from my fun in the sun yesterday and decided to attack life with renewed vigour.

Well, I had decided to do that until jet lag kicked in, husband turned our kitchen walls a putrid shade of 'vegetable soup' (why can men operate heavy machinery and understand complicated sports but when it comes to simple kitchen equipment like a blender, the concept of screwing the lid on tightly escapes them?)

So yeah, energy, new take on life, bla bla has dissipated, along with my tan.

Which is not only fading, but peeling in a way that is making me question myself (am I secretly an alien morphing into some kind of reptile thing or does human skin seriously come off that easily?)

Not only that but I am in major financial trouble having plundered funds on essential last minute holiday wardrobe.

My good intentions of saving for 'quality rather than quantity' went out the window two ill-fitting dresses later, that I couldn't be bothered to return (note to self: must remember I look nothing like models on Net-a-Porter)

So I made a last minute dash to Zara and spent the budget deficit of Brazil.

The problem with buying so much crap is, despite the elation at cutting tags off all the brand-new clothes in my hotel room, when I got home, I had to dump the entire contents of my suitcase into the bin.

What do I have to show for my expenditures? An overdraft, lecture from husband  (Him: you really need to grow up. Me: jeeeez, *eye rolling*, that's a bit harsh) and a pair of pink jeans, which look great in the Caribbean and frankly quite ridiculous in the real world.

Made me want to give up on fashion altogether.

Until I flicked through this month's Harpers. Soft, white D&G lace a la Gisele on Vogue cover everywhere..but not in my closet...YET.

P.S I am choosing to misplace the note to self that says I don't look a thing like Gisele.

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