Yeah it was too as bad as I thought. No use pretending it wasn't. Should have stayed in bed like I thought. Instead I mustered the courage to get up and face the dreaded day ready to do battle. Made it all the way to lunch before bursting into a fit of uncontrolled tears upon finding a beetle in my salad (Mrs. Vanelli's Pen Centre eating area - so don't go there). Am quite sure I am doomed to a life of wrinkles, gray hair (oh yeah, there's lotsa that) and beetle salads from here on out. And... just to perk things up a bit I decided the day before to have my hair cut in a vain attempt to make myself feel better but - one of the girls there decided to share her early 20 something wisdom with me and tell me that 30 is when you start losing your looks. Is assault with a flat iron a criminal offence? How about hair pins? I think I could figure out a way to pin that bitchy little trap shut with those.... grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Right then. It's over and I don't want to talk about it anyways. (Cept that really I do. I actually want to wine about it until next year but that might get boring... so then just for a little while and then I promise I'll find other things to wimper about. Right then off I go on my rant...)
Why is it when you think of a guy who is 30 it sounds so young and full of possibilities and when you apply it to a girl it just sounds well on the way to 40 and withered up? Completely unfair. Have decided that birthdays no longer apply to me - instead I will celebratemy annual Botox appointment on that dreaded day.
OH YEAH - and where was a cake when I needed one? Well that is just fine because I happen to have a cake mix hidden away for just such an emergency so off I go to make that cake and eat a HUGE slice with HOMO milk (extra fat) and enjoy every bite. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. No elliptical yesterday either - or today. Ha ha!
(PS - thanks for all the messages guys - warm fuzzies after a dreadful day. Seriously. )