Size DOES matter!
yes it really does! I was in town for lunch today, browsing through the shops to renew my wardrobe while the sales are still on and I found this lovely pair of chord trousers in Benetton. I try them on, they fit perfectly, and look at the label and HOLLY SHIT! they're a size 14.... 14! And there comes the trauma. How did I go from a UK size 10/12 to 14 overnight? How am I supposed to live now that I have a size 14 pair of trousers? How will my self-esteem ever get over that?
Ok, I'll just cut the label off, and that'll be the end of it.
Jaysus, I can be so shallow sometimes.
In the news today as well, the cranky old lady upstairs is gone. Where? Haven't a clue.
She was the perfect stereotype of the bored annoying old hag, the "Tatie Danielle" as Tom and I call her, as in the French film....
From the day we moved in, the landlords told us not to pay too much attention to her moods and diatribes. But she was nice at first, and I think she secretly fancied Tom, and she even let us use her parking space, closer and easier to park in than ours. Then, one day, last summer, we were on the car park, ready to go to Kilkenny when the old lady suddenly appeared (she must've rushed down the stairs to catch up on us) and lost it. We were horrible people, not supposed to run a B&B (we were having people over), didn't wish her a happy new year (neither did she), flushed the toilet (?!?), just lived and annoyed her.
So we left her parking space and ignored her since. Too unpredictable to our liking.
Oh, and she also spied on us on a daily basis, checking what time we were leaving, coming back, where we were going, watching through her window, trying to hide from view... the poor silly bitch. Lying as well, telling Tom that while he was away for a week I had men over the flat.. Ah, the poor thing hadn't seen a cock in a while I guess.
Now, when we didn't see any sign of her since we came back from our Xmas break, we thought she was away with family. Then the curtains on her windows changed position, but her mail remained uncollected. Glancing towards her window, we saw the tacky furniture had gone. And we heard lively noise from her flat late in the evening, people coming and going, moving things over.
So now, suddenly we feel bad about joking that she must have died. Cause I'm afraid that's what happened. Or maybe she went off to an old folk's home or something. That's be better. We'd be sure she wouldn't come back to haunt us then!
Ok, I'll just cut the label off, and that'll be the end of it.
Jaysus, I can be so shallow sometimes.
In the news today as well, the cranky old lady upstairs is gone. Where? Haven't a clue.
She was the perfect stereotype of the bored annoying old hag, the "Tatie Danielle" as Tom and I call her, as in the French film....
From the day we moved in, the landlords told us not to pay too much attention to her moods and diatribes. But she was nice at first, and I think she secretly fancied Tom, and she even let us use her parking space, closer and easier to park in than ours. Then, one day, last summer, we were on the car park, ready to go to Kilkenny when the old lady suddenly appeared (she must've rushed down the stairs to catch up on us) and lost it. We were horrible people, not supposed to run a B&B (we were having people over), didn't wish her a happy new year (neither did she), flushed the toilet (?!?), just lived and annoyed her.
So we left her parking space and ignored her since. Too unpredictable to our liking.
Oh, and she also spied on us on a daily basis, checking what time we were leaving, coming back, where we were going, watching through her window, trying to hide from view... the poor silly bitch. Lying as well, telling Tom that while he was away for a week I had men over the flat.. Ah, the poor thing hadn't seen a cock in a while I guess.
Now, when we didn't see any sign of her since we came back from our Xmas break, we thought she was away with family. Then the curtains on her windows changed position, but her mail remained uncollected. Glancing towards her window, we saw the tacky furniture had gone. And we heard lively noise from her flat late in the evening, people coming and going, moving things over.
So now, suddenly we feel bad about joking that she must have died. Cause I'm afraid that's what happened. Or maybe she went off to an old folk's home or something. That's be better. We'd be sure she wouldn't come back to haunt us then!
Brought to you by Sandrine @ 7:40 pm
2 Comments:
Pour tes histoires de tailles, AnSo est en train de vider les placards en se plaingant qu'elle rentrait dans ses jupes/jeans/(surement pleins d'autrs choses) et plsu maintenant... alors qu'elle avait l'impression d'avoir maigrie...
Une autre petite pharse worth hearing: "La cellulite... j'en ai plus ou moins selon les jours"
La vie de couple c'est merveilleux...
Ah, ces gonzesses.....
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