Thursday, May 10, 2012

I Said I Love You But I Lied

 Like many people decades & decades younger than me all around the world, I love Instagram.
Perhaps you also use it.
 Perhaps you've never heard of it. Sadly, I'm not going to explain what it is except to say that it's an Instant Photo with Magical Powers.
Occasionally I try to summon up these Magical Powers when I see something interesting in the street which isn't too often.  Maybe I'm just not looking properly.
But last week I walked out of the school gate after a long & exhausting day standing over a Hot Whiteboard only to find the above message neatly written in chalk across the footpath.
Of course I immediately thought it was addressed to me.
I racked my brain. Who had recently lied when they told me that they loved me, I wondered.
No one. I'm sure everyone who told me they loved me, meant it. Or if they didn't, they wouldn't bother admitting it.
So  I just took an Instagram instead.
It was much more satisfying than Brain Racking. Or is it 'Wracking'?


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 Talking of Hot Whiteboards, here I am this week in a whole series of  Exciting Photos taken by v. bored & slightly reluctant students who are sick to the back gills of taking photos of me & my outfits.
The weather is supposed to be almost late autumn. But it's kind of hot. In fact, as I type, I've just had to slip off  both Toy Ugg Boots as my feet were getting v. sticky. And it's nite when it's supposed to be coldish.
Anyway, I've been smugly congratulating myself all week on my Clever Layering  which allows me to discard jackets & scarves as the day hots up .
You can see what I mean in the snap above, although I don't think I did actually remove the lightweight wool jacket that partially covered the Shocking Pink Toy Satin blouse that I later ruined by spilling blue cheese dressing all down the front of it. As I am unable to Remove Stains, I'll have to throw it out.
On my feet, I'm wearing genuine Ferragamos that I bought for five bucks at a thrift store in Palm Springs this past January which of course now feels like years & years ago.
Oh, I must tell you something Mildly Gross.
I have good reason to think that my feet have grown by perhaps almost a size.
How is this possible for a woman of my age?
Is it because over the past few years in a desperate bid to fit into Thrifted Designer Shoes, I've developed a Flexible Attitude Towards Shoe Sizes & don't care what size I wear?
It all started with a pair of creme YSL ballet flats that were at least a size too big. They were only twenty bucks & I was determined, nay, desperate to have them. So I stuffed them with tissue paper & wore them.
After that, I didn't really care what size a shoe was if it was a designer label. I always managed to find a way to clump around in them regardless.
And now look what's happened?
Maybe it's my Feet's way of getting back at me.


I totally love this thrifted Carla Zampatti military style jacket that I wore with an unusual brooch featuring a long line of Toy Coins. Everyone thought I was wearing medals. As if I would.
Just now I was trying to think what I could get a Medal for:
1. The Loudest & Potty-iest Mouth in Any Staffroom in Sydney;
2.  Attending Therapy More Times Than Anyone Else in the Southern Hemisphere;
3. Having an Entirely Thrifted Wardrobe.
I recently re-watched that adorable film Rushmore, where the main character, a school student received two medals - one for perfect attendance & the other for  Punctuality. I would never get a medal for either of those two things, although I'm not particularly late or anything.

 Yesterday was boiling hot so I was forced to remove A Layer, revealing an adorable Spring-Type blouse in a Floaty Fabricwith big puffy sleeves & a pussy bow, which wasn't particularly flattering.
 But I didn't care, I wore it anyway. In an attempt to not look too much like Shirley Temple, or perhaps Margaret Thatcher, I butched it up by wearing a small gaggle of leather studded wristbands.


And now we're at The End. And not a moment too soon because if I don't hop into bed in a moment, I might explode.
I'm dressed for Disco Friday last week in a dress that screams Too Young For You!
But I ignored it.

2 comments:

Rebecca said...

hahahahahahahahahaha! To EVERYTHING. Honestly. When is your book coming out? Or better yet, why don't you take your comedy on the road. I never go to comedy shows, but I would come to yours.

Feet, medals, layering, therapy....you make it all tolerable somehow.

see you there! said...

I couldn't see anything "too young" and I tried. I put on my special criticizing glasses too. Love the color in that first blouse with the bow.

Darla