Friday's Child

"Yes, they admired her,
maybe even loved her.
They laid out the carpet for her,
opened the bubbly for her.
With grace she smiled, treading carefully.
Her eyes fixed on a distant dream,
her heart frozen, so it seemed.
She was searching for her answer.
The answer that was him" --- ME


I write as my head thumps and my stomach jumps. These are consequences of partying in a town with no moral fibre. What has moral fibre got to do with a hangover you ask?
Picture this: Kate Moss (or any other woman you fancy) in a perfectly fitted very revealing piece of clothing. Now imagine someone 20 times fatter and uglier wearing something like that.
Yep! This is where I live. Where cows dress in Prada knock offs thinking that they will look like mermaids if they did so. Now, coming back to the previous question about what this has to do with my hangover. A night out in this town is a very bad idea. However, if you decide to subject yourself to such torture you need sufficient intoxication so that the rain, the cold and the scantily clad sumo-sized women do not affect your psychological health. I've heard men say, "Well, such clothes leave nothing to imagination." Bullshit! Cow's in skimpy Gucci or Prada or Zara, boost your imagination.
You start by trying to figure out "Why in the world do they dress like that?" then you go on to, "how many people did it take to get them into that?" finally you try to imagine whether their intention is to attract attention. Of course it is! Since they are cows, they never thought that walking on two legs in hot pants would not draw attention but turn them into a 'pay attention sign', one that says "HEAVY DUTY FASHION NIGHTMARE."
In small letters underneath it says ::Injurious to your mental health::
I confess I am a victim of such trauma. I witnessed the run of such cows towards a taxi last night. The trauma was caused at the sight of them clutching their breasts and running to prevent them from popping out of their 3 square centimetre attires.
I will take this traumatic memory to my grave. Oh! How cruel Wales has been to me!!
Anyway, for my part, I don't understand what I was doing there. Not like I was interested in starting my dairy industry. But I did indulge in insanity by wearing a short dress. But I was completely covered in leggings. It seemed quite popular with the bulls, a little too popular for my own good.
I remember going up to the bar to get a drink and a not so respectable bull on heats stood behind me and did the copulation dance in close proximity to my arse. Another trauma. Serves me right for not being a cow and grossly under-dressed.
And I am still not over my ex. Nothing helps, not even the alcohol.
Yes, the drama queen has found something to be upset about again. Sympathies are welcome *wink*