I bought this polish yesterday and applied it yesterday night, photographed this morning, up on the blog today. I don't usually operate on this sort of snappy turnaround but I really wanted to wear this as a pick-me-up. I was dashing back from swimming to head to the chemists because I had a really bad case of heartburn (I've still not quite worked out what I can eat that doesn't disagree with doing 50 tumble turns) and on my way there, passed a slighly lairy Irish pub. I got the usual 'hello darlin' hollers. When I ignored them (what else does one do?) this turned into 'you're a horrible piece of **** with a fat arse'. Romance isn't dead...
I'm not going to lose any sleep over it - particularly since I was wearing a new pair of size 26 jeans which I'd finally managed to shoe horn myself into, and had just swum 2k, which suggests they are probably empirically incorrect - but why on earth do some men think it's OK to say those kinds of things in public? what gives them the right?
Naturally as I continued on my way down the road I composed a witty response about the patriarchy and self ownership and so on and so forth but my on-the-spot response is always either a) pretend I can't hear them or b) flip them the bird. Neither of which goes very far to showing that I'm a confident, out and proud feminist who thinks that kind of behaviour is pathetic and funny in equal measure. Sigh.
Anyway, after that rant, happy Easter to you all!
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