It’s Raining Men

Got to make the effort sometimes, get up, shower and trowel on the face paint. Not too much, just enough to say, “I care about myself,” but not enough to say, “I’m about to enter a slug race”. Blessed though I am with untrimmable eyebrows I have no worries about being blonde. At least I think I’m blonde, I was last year, a sort of three toned multi-bottled blonde. Now I’m red-ish, but the brows are still blonde, as are the other unmentionable parts of hair growth.

I made the effort and prepared for the outside World. There he was waiting for me, Storm Brendan. I forgot, what can I say, it’s as though I have been living in a bubble, trust me it burst as I battled through slap happy rain and face prickling winds.

The dog didn’t fare much better, tethered as she was to a lead, which did not amuse her in the slightest, I watched her trying desperately to walk in a straight line. The tunnel vision afforded me through the tightly secured hood meant I only got glimpses of what she was up to. It put me in mind of the Green Cross Code, remember it, David Prowse, the guy that played Darth Vader.
Green X Code

Look Left, Look Right, Look Left again. By the time I turned my body around in my uber thick bright yellow rain coat, a whole battalion of army trucks could have trundled past. As it is, the dog is well trained at crossing the road and waited patiently for me to make up my mind as to what I was going to do. I’m sure that she sighed and tutted at one point.

Home and drying out, I felt like a dish cloth, sitting on the side after being swilled around the inside of dog’s dish. What’s more I smelt a bit like that as well. It’s the rubbing down of wet dogs with a towel that did it. It doesn’t matter how much you wash your hands it takes a few hours to get rid of the wet dog smell.

I took a good look at myself as I tried to put that one hair back into the hair band. There is always one. Time for a cut. A cut of all types. The hair and the body. I’ve got the body cutting off to a good start. I’m back at SlimmingWord, have to resist the urge to call it Fat Club. The hair is another matter. I like my red locks, I like the fact that I can still rock the bright lights and get away with it. How do I do it? With style, you see I don’t care. In fact, I haven’t cared for over a year and have been hacking at the ends of the top locks for just as long.

Hair dresser booked, I decided to go for special Specs. I’ve worn glasses for many years. The wonky eye syndrome started back when I was twelve, I wore glasses for a couple of years and then convinced myself I didn’t need them but after having to get Mandy to read her own school letters to me I decided it was time to invest. I thought they were pricey when I spent £33 on my first pair. Having just asked the optician “How much?” I think I’m going to make do, either that or have to release equity in the house. They say “Should have gone to Specsavers,” Take my advice get yourself a pair of reading glasses from Tesco before you go and read the small print.

I’m prepared for all that I have coming this week, even more so than I was for Storm Brendan. I’ve been off track for four days and if I’ve lost weight it will be by poor fluke. I’m poorly you see.

Say “Ahhhhh.”

That’s no good, try again. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh.”

That’ll do. I’ve been digging in Doldrums, that thick quagmire of self-pity and misery. It seems that slapping on a face, then having it slapped off again by natural forces doesn’t make you feel much better. It’s all Brendan’s fault. The sky darkened by the heavy grey clouds that block out the Sun, the wind that howls down the chimney, the new bloody Smart Meter that keeps flashing red as the gas usage goes over the budget. You think I’m sitting here in the cold, you can forget it. Rain, did I mention rain? No walking for me this week.

It’s just typical that the Storm is named Brendan after a man, after all isn’t it always men that make us sad. Think about it, menopause, menstruation, mental illness and now this maniacal, menacing, meandering Storm. Bloody men. At least I have a reason for putting weight on at the weigh in on Thursday.

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s