Wednesday, 30 March 2011

The real wish list...

So this is what I really want out of life. Warning: shallow and fickle content!

Do you know your body shape? Yes it's a squash!
I want to be able to afford good fitting clothes, and if I can't have all my clothes fitting well then I'll just choose trousers... or jeans. And if that store doesn't exist, I want to pay someone to alter everything that I "shouldn't wear" (according to a gay bloke or a pair of middle class witches) so I can wear it.
Sometimes, when the TV, or a Mag, has asked me for the billionth time if I know my body shape,  I envisage myself appearing on a Gok show (it doesn't really matter which one does it? Same show - three different names)… the producers hand me over, a lamb to the slaughter, "right here she is, do your bit". Gok then looks at me for a long time, pulls that face that my 3 year old does when you ask him a question (thinking face). He then starts turning me round. Looking for a sign or something? Nothing. Gok then takes time to pat both hands against the big 3 - shoulders, waist and hips - and looks more puzzled. He waggles a finger to a producer (the brains), she looks puzzled, shrugs shoulders and walks away. "Well my darling" he says at last "I'm totally clueless here, I ain't never seen one of you before. You know what my darling, I'm running out of vegetables so  I'm thinking we just call you a butternut squash, maybe squash for short?" How apt - like someone took a girl who was five foot ten, and squashed her down to five foot three and this is what they got - me! A butternut squash.
No More Tesco Tees  (T Shirts washed once and look like they've been handed down four generations - "It's great yeah - it cost 2 quid" - really?)
For my children I want health, happiness and clothes from mini Boden! Maybe, occasionally, something from GAP, but only if I've bought it from the REAL GAP store, not the outlet, where I spend the whole shopping trip looking for the reasons it didn't sell on its first go. Oh I know there are meccas for middle class shoppers, but they know something we don't - they are indestructable. Sometimes we  are given-hand-me down bags from said middle class shoppers and we both rifle through the black bin bag till we find a mini Boden item, raising it to the air we kiss it like it's the FA cup.

Step away from the catalogues
I want my house to look like a John Lewis Showroom, dotten with the occasional Item from Pedlars (but not the sloany stuff, just those pieces that I drool over occasionally and then slam the catalogue down in disgust at the prices.)

How to solve the 'what if?' conundrum?
I want a time machine. Now, let's not get excited I ADORE the place I've ended up, but you know just to go back and play around with it a bit to see what could have happened, just for fun, then come back to here and now. How handy, you know for those nights that you're suffering from a bit of insomnia - "just popping out in my time machine, back before you know it - literally!" Marvellous.


Well, I better stop pratting about on here and write something that's going to make me some money then, heard those time machines are pretty expensive. Flash forward glimpse of epitaph: 'Well she didn't win the lottery...'

No comments:

Post a Comment