Why do I do it to myself? I’m sure there is a part of my brain that is designed to come up with ideas to humiliate and horrify me, probably while I’m blissfully dribbling in my sleep.
The day didn’t start too well…
I have been getting used to being back to work which in itself is a headf**k. OK, it’s only 3 days but nevertheless I am finding myself in a permanent state of confused and dazed semi-consciousness, rather like a stoned OAP (if you can imagine such a thing) I find myself in important meetings suddenly panicking about the lack of nappies at home, or whether my daughter has been eating enough fruit this week. I nearly found myself discussing chickenpox with a senior director who (by all accounts) detests children.
I think my credibility is slipping somewhat.
So it didn’t help that I managed to crunch my foot against the bed post whilst getting ready this morning. I was reduced to a limping wreck, hobbling around the house, trying to squeeze my purple foot into my patent high heels – it wasn’t a nice look.
But at least I was wearing my pretty dress. My floral tea dress. The sun was shining and I could put that on and feel happy, even if my foot looked like a squashed plum.
And it was going so well. I actually made it through the day without talking about Iggle Piggle or nit treatments.
That was until a lovely gust of wind appeared from nowhere and blew up my skirt as I was walking from one office to another. Behind me were a group of six senior managers.
And of all them saw my lovely granny knickers that I had carelessly thrown on that morning.
As I mentioned earlier I think my credibility (what I had of it) is slipping…..
Marilyn Monroe, a photo by DRS 3 on Flickr.
