Wednesday, 10 July 2013

From glamourpuss to dogs-dinner

There is a type of woman who can breeze through the day looking effortlessly beautiful, never drawing attention to herself with a faux pas and always ending the night looking the same way as she started.

I am apparently not one of them.

On Saturday the sun was high in the sky. My hair was shiny. My dress was glamorous. I was at a wedding with old friends and the promise of champagne lurked a few hundred yards away. Lady luck was smiling down.

And then she started chuckling. And once she’d had a chuckle it was apparently too difficult for her not to break into a full fit of giggles.

The church was on top of a hill and the reception was a few hundred yards below. The path to get between the two was steep and made of exceptionally shiny stone. After the service I started to carefully pick my way down said path. I took small steps – after all I was on a mission to retain the glamorous illusion - but unfortunately it came to an end all too abruptly. My heel slipped from underneath me and I thumped down unceremoniously onto my backside. It hurt a bit (the bruises are looking pretty good!) but it was mainly my pride that was wounded.

I decided that in the scheme of things I could live with the embarrassment so up I got, dusted myself down (a little mud on the back of the dress but nothing too noticeable) and carried on to the reception. Where an hour later I managed to throw mango chutney down the front of my dress. Well - it was going to need dry-cleaning anyway after the mud episode so why do things by halves?!

My Mum & Dad were also at the reception and when I came across them a bit later Mum was struggling to get the heel of her shoe out of the wooden decking where it had become lodged and Dad was wiping food off his tie.

Perhaps it was never my destiny to be one of the breezy women!

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