Earlier in the year, George Skerrett asked, "must your mailing posts be so extensive?" For all of you who know George, this won't surprise you. And for all of you who don't, he is also the sort of boy who told me this week that I should stop stressing about ever getting into university, as all I am required to do in life is marry a (well-educated) banker. So George, in answer to your question, yes, they will be extensive. Of course, he didn't really mean this, as he's been a member of both my Facebook groups...My best pair of pants appeared MIA this morning and in realising that 80% of my 'knicker drawer' is solely for show, the type of pant that you wouldn't dream of wearing under jeans for fear of having to wriggle all day, I was left in a bit of a predicament. "But who's going to see?!" my mother always demands and we won't go into that, especially seeing as, very often, its only Genevieve, dragging me to the gym, so I can watch her run. So the loss of this pair is a significant one, you see. Its upset me so, because they are the perfect combination between granny and tranny (the poles on the knicker spectrum); they haven't lost their elastic yet and I even have a bra that they match. Really, things couldn't be better.
This said, I didn't actually own a pair of jeans until yesterday (still trying to break out of the sixth form dress code mould), when I invested in a pair of 'boyfriend' fits, during the aforementioned Topshop nightmare. Of course, had I a boyfriend, I would have simply 'borrowed' and re-hemmed, but sadly, with neither one of my own (a boyfriend that is) nor, thankfully, one of anyone else's, I was forced into sacrificing 80 cans of diet coke for a pair, in order to look just like everyone else (that is the Topshop slogan, right?)
Last week, my sister wanted a pair of the appallingly-named, 'jeggings' (in the same way as 'banoffee', 'labradoodle' and 'honkey' which, I am now told, actually has the more pleasing label, 'mule'...), and, with it being her birthday, I begrudgingly obliged. I won't pretend that there is more than one reason that I don't like shopping with my sister: she is a size 4. So when I went to the desk to ask if they had anything smaller than a size 6, I was charmingly looked up and down by the sales assistant,
"Four is a very small size", he said.
"Yes, it is", I said.
A few more raised eyebrows from eavesdroppers and several awkward moments later, I decided to put him out his misery in firmly establishing that they hadn't been meant for myself and, while they would ordinarily only fit a Barbie, my doll-proportioned sister would be enjoying them.
I decided to start spell-checking myself before clicking 'publish' (as I am only learning to spell again) and realised that my Microsoft is clearly set to US English, as I have been capitalizing and realizing all over the place! Accept my sincerest apologises.
On a slightly less ridiculous note, I have a friend who is going to be blindfolded for 24 hours somewhere mid-August to raise money for Guide Dogs http://www.guidedogs.org.uk/, so if you're feeling particularly generous and animal-loving, I know he'd appreciate the support http://www.justgiving.com/vanceboot. Thanks!
Quotes:
Hendrika: did you know, it takes 37 muscles to frown and...
Me: less to smile, right?
Hendrika: only 4 to stick your finger up at someone!
Listening to: On The Road - The Bowmans http://www.myspace.com/thebowmans
(re-)Reading: The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
Liking: letting coke go flat
Disliking: the binliner I was given to empty my room into
Endorsing: Mrs Doubtfire and learning to knit while the weather's down
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