Eventful day! I’ve been up since 7am…an hour that i neatly classify as ‘horrendous.’ 7 am should be an hour of sinning. You should either be dragging your drunken ass in, with streamers tangled into your hair, some gaggle of girlies and red wine spilt down your dress, or throwing your leg over some ‘Handsome’ that’s swearing that you have a beautiful smile. What 7am shouldn’t be…is a time where you’re being prodded up by a voice saying ‘Wakey Boo’ (means ‘wake up’ in Wunna Land) then being told you have 20 minutes to get groomed and ready! Ugh, you know when you just NEED that extra 2 hours of ‘shut eye,’ but you are being forced up and even worse KNOW you can’t venture ANYWHERE without looking like a kitten of sheer glory, which therefore means ‘grooming in a rush.’ The morning, i just couldn’t handle. I didn’t even have a boy in my bed, or it would’ve made it easier to ‘do one’ 🙂 However, nonetheless, i threw on an outfit that i THOUGHT i could fit into, then got sooo pissed off with the fact that i actually couldn’t at all even *squeeze* any part of me into it, without looking like a bitch of fatty. Then flung on a more comfortable, hoochie mama, black dress…with those vixen 9 inch heels (I’ll never learn,) grabbed my paperwork, lipglossed, bronzed, hair tossed, found myself surrounded by ‘yelling’ due to not working lights, threw a pair of Uggs, in an animal print bag and after a quick mirror pose and a latte clutch, i ran out the door, into a black Mercedes and was driven to Doncaster train station. All in 20 minutes, and with kittens circling my feet. I AM THE ULTIMATE DOLL OF YUM YUM!!
The rest of the morning, once in Doncaster, was spent in coffee shops, studying people with my slanted eyes for blog fodder, with a cinammon roll and more coffee, whilst i waited for my ‘8 something’ train. (No-one was interesting me. They all were in grey and ignoring the art of LIVING.) Being a Glamour puss, yet a soon to be mum is confusing me deeply? I don’t like being fat. Do i act pregnant and still wink at strangers or do i pretend i’m not and *strut* my way through town like a vixen? Do i acknowledge the staring ‘Handsomes’ or do i make like i don’t see them? I hate that i can’t fit into anything. I lived my day in a little black dress. I had to wear date clothes, in the DAYTIME! Kill me! (The good news is that i bought a new lipstick from MAC today…in ‘Glaze.’ I am hoping it’s ‘glaze’ as in sugar coated & not as in ‘chicken flavoured.’)
After Doncaster and feeling all worn and not yet awake. I’m trained it up to Meadowhall in
You’ll win some and you’ll lose some, but if it’s your destiny, you will get there in the end. Fate’s a funny thing. It’s one of those things that we use as an excuse or never believe in, until we’ve fucked it all up and found ourselves in this position that we were meant for.
Oh Loverboy and I didn’t get that BBC thing. But i do have another audition for a show, coming up. I love that i told Pete that he wouldn’t leave me ever simply because i give a good blow job and with buffalo wing in my mouth. He agreed. Everyday i seem to be pushing my sexuality to get a quicker *nod* of approval. I need to stop, but right now i’m finding it far too fun and until the boys stop responding, the *wiggle & wink* will always be there.