Changing Moods.

Just call me multi-tasker extraordinaire! I haven’t done a fraction as much as people with children and real responsibilities, but still, for me – I’m pleased with tonight’s graft.
From feeling like I either wanted to slap someone or wail my eyes out earlier today – this evening, instead of sleeping away my strop, I got cracking with ‘stuff’ and now I feel like a very productive member of society.

I began by tidying my clothes in the bedroom. The room still feels too claustrophobic for my liking. I have a bizarre amount of clothing for a non-fashonista. I don’t understand it. It’s odd. And despite every so often having clothes swapping parties where my friends are not allowed to bring any clothes, but they must take all of mine that I don’t want, I still have acres of material floating around.
Anyway, so I did that, plus two lots of washing... waxing, plucking, and in a while I will go in the shower, then paint my nails, scracth my ass and have a fiddle.
But right now I’m sitting here with an intensive mask on my brittle hair and a face pack of my spotty skin. I always get spots before my period. I’m in my 30’s and I still get effing spots. It’s just wrong. But as my step mum reminds me ‘ It’s cos you’ve got young blood still flowing through your veins’ Yep, OK. I’ll go with that. And with my new hair cut, it would be easy for people to believe. I look about 12. It’s cute. ‘Middle England’ as Blue calls it.I just need an Alice band he says, and I'll pass as a choclate-labrador-walking-buggy-pushing-yummy-mummy. That ain't so bad, is it???
At first I thought his comment was negative. I like the idea of looking edgy. But you know something; edginess is in the mind, in the spirit. That’s good enough for me.

I like the contrast of ex-coke-whore-alcoholic-bum who actually looks quite prim and proper. I don’t want everyone knowing my secrets. At least not until the book is published.