Today I trotted off to school thinking that I looked fabulous. 'What a riot of colours & patterns & fabrics I am,' I said to myself on the way down the hill. 'People are nodding & smiling at me with approval', I noted.
All day I floated around thinking Majestically Wonderful Thoughts about my appearance & congratulating myself on my clever sartorial choices. I drew wonderful drawings on the whiteboard to make some highly important points about Postmodernism & The Death of the Author ,all the while thinking about what a great photo me & my outfit would make.
It wasn't until after school when I was visiting my local thrift shop, 'Beatniks & Bohemians' & I caught a glimpse of myself in a full length mirror that The Awful Truth came crashing down on me. Clearly, I looked like Eliza Doolittle in 'My Fair Lady', before she had her Makeover. Or maybe a Morman's Favourite Wife.
I rushed home & quickly removed the thai silk skirt that I believed to be the Chief Offender. I immediately felt better.
But I couldn't help but publish my photo if only to remind myself that it doesn't pay to be too smug.
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