Afternoon All,
So the moment has come (nearly) when the shops start blaring out Christmas hits and everyone starts barging in Tesco for the last box of mince pies! But as everyone clammers for that Gold Sequin number in Topshop, here I am wishing I could fit in to Primark sizes let alone any of the other High Street or Online party dress offerings.
Ever since I can remember I have always been a larger size. At my High School Prom I look back on the photos of me that will take him that evening and think about how skinny and then I was. I looked a bit odd with my large head on my small underdeveloped frame. True to my Emo / Scene kids self I wore a handmade "Cold November Rain" inspired prom dress compromising of a corseted bodice and a graduated hemline skirt of black silk and pink neon chiffon. I had a collar bone and arms with shoulders to be proud of. I was a size 12. Now, a decade on, I am four dress sizes bigger and with the High street now struggling to cater to my less than agile physique, three weeks ago I decided to finally do something about it. I joined a new Gym opening for less than a tenner a month and have decided to also invest in a personal trainer to help kick start the weight loss and journey to a thinner, happier and hopefully more attractive me!
My inspiration really has to come from somewhere I have spent most of my time and that is at work. One girl there has grabbed the bull by the horns and has thrown herself into the exercise and fitness regimes like a female baaws I have never seen before. Triple-Thursdays are now a thing where three back-to-back classes are in attendance every week along with work out Wednesdays and Gym-Time-Tuesday. OK the last two I made up but Triple-Thursday is a real thing. A the beginning of the year I admired her. By the Summer I was in awe of her achievements and now, I look back as we all do on the transformation she has made and applaud her for all the hard work and effort she has put in. But in all fairness it is not you or I that see the difference or reap the benefits, nor even the lucky man she has on her arm, but her. She worked so damn hard because at some point she reached where I am now in the fact that I don't want to be that Mommy that sits on the park bench watching the kids play. I want to chase after them and run around too, not sitting reading a book I don't like because I get out of breath just looking at the roundabout. I want to be able to run round the park after my step-pooch and one day my own little fluff ball playing hide-and-seek and chase. I want to run up the stairs and not almost pass out at the top.
After my first week I was hella nervous and on entering the new Gym complex where I was to begin my Personal Training Sessions I was a little scared. Normally friendly and bubbly to the point of being in your face I couldn't have become more opposite, now preferring to be a wallflower, fading into insignificance. Although I am a plus-size gal so that ain't happening any time soon. Starting off on the treadmill I was OK, a little breathy but OK. But that was just the warm up. Next were kettle bell swinging and steps. Again, a little more out of puff but still managing to hold a conversation. following that my PT decided to crank it up a notch by introducing me to the ropes and medicine balls. Again, looking at them I thought that they might be a little more tough but something I can handle. Yeah it was OK but I was certainly starting to feel it. Sweating in all the places I never expected to I carried on, trying to battle my way through. Finally those reps were done and I rewarded myself with some water and a moments rest. But then. Then came the dreaded box of doom.
Twenty-inches high, the cube came up to above my knee. "I have had skirts longer than that" I thought to myself. "But you also couldn't fit into them now, could you fatty!" the devil on my shoulder said in retaliation. Spurring me on I soldiered through the gruelling task of simply stepping up onto the box and stepping back down. Sounds easy enough but by ten repetitions in I needed to stop. My vision was blurry and becoming tunnelled. I could feel waves of heat washing over me and every movement of my head or body made me want to be sick. Not wanting to Vom on my PT I took a rest and sat down for fear I might stumble. I knew my limit and I was super-unfit. Regretting the cigarettes and booze and takeaways I walked out of the venue bidding farewell to the staff thinking that I could do what I always do and just never come back.
The question is would that really benefit me? The brutal answer is no it wouldn't and in less than six-weeks time I would be wondering why I am still the same size as I was last year and the year before and the year before that, all in the hope that somewhere does nice dresses in fat sizes for my Christmas party at work. Now I am not trying to say that all people size twenty (UK) and above need to go and join a gym and get on a strict diet of lettuce and carrot sticks, but what I am saying is that I am sick and tired of looking in every shop at beautiful dresses or outfits and all in the knowledge that they are not made for my frame or size. I have had enough of seeing stylish and sexy clothes that I cannot wear because they do not fit either on the arms, bust or waist and on the odd occasion I will hit a hat-trick of all three being completely wrong in an outfit that looks stunning on the size eight model.
I returned last week for my first full paying session with the personal trainer. She is now costing my £45.00 for six-sessions of thirty-minutes every week and at a value of less than £7.50 per session I think that works out fantastic value and gets me exactly where I want to be. I wasn't as nervous as a first time walking through the doors, and in actual fact being greeted by people that already knew my face was quite a blessing. Oddly enough I had been looking forward to it. And whilst it was hard with more of the ropes, medicine balls and kettle bells, plus a few squats and lunges for good measure I was pleased to not feel as out of breath as I was the week before. No nausea. No blurred vision. No having to stop. Powering through it like my own female baaws. I have not quite got the Triple-Thursday crave yet, but I certainly walk out of the place now feeling more confident, achieved and even with a smile of my face looking forward to my next session.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Hurt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hurt. Show all posts
Monday, 20 November 2017
Monday, 24 February 2014
The Sweetest Goodbye
Hi,
So finally I can now put behind me another sickeningly romantic Valentines Day and look forward to the rest of what 2014 has to offer. So far I have Reading Festival '14 and not much else but with rumours of another mini-break to Chester with Miss Chocolate and possibly Miss Tatts our old college friend as well as a boozed up sunshine break with Miss Chocolate and friends too, there is much to anticipate over the coming months. However I feel that I have become more and more withdrawn over the past few weeks, slowly drifting further into the background, which as you all know is very unlike me. However I am sure I will pick myself off and find something fun to do although life hasn't been very fun this week. Allow me to explain ...
Rushing around like a headless chicken (Mmm Nando's) I tried my best to finish my mountain of work on my desk before finishing half-day on Friday. Who knew that having a spa day booked would be so stressful and energy-draining. But I must confess, that wasn't the only thing I was heading to London for. I had some stuff I needed to collect from Mr. Cheese that I had left at his flat I so wished to visit one last time, and conveniently for me that aggravatingly contradictory man was heading through Kings Cross St. Pancras Station as I was. Whilst I was going in for some retail therapy and a rub-down, he was heading out on a family weekend to York visiting Grandad Cheese in hospital. And so as I clambered onto the train with minutes to spare I wondered again about what would happen when we finally said goodbye for the very last time. Watching the trees and countryside of the home-counties rush past the window I knew that despite my planning and preparation for this concluding encounter I had been building up to since I took a stand on New Years Day that it could all fall apart as soon as we met. And to some extent it did.
Of course irony would have a part to play in all of this at some point, this is me were on about here, and right on cue we learnt that Mr. Cheese and I had ended up in the wrong parts of the station and as we had done on our first date, mostly down to my incompetence at geographical locations. Nevertheless I found him, that odd man in casual clothing looking nothing of the London sort, slumped against the glass wall of Starbucks trying to look calm but emulating an awkwardness and uneasiness at the whole situation. Approaching him with a strut in my step I desperately tried to stay calm, trying to remember all the things I would say and the positive crap Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee had drummed into me the past few months, not to mention countless others. Standing in front of the taller-than-remembered Mr. Cheese I saw him relax a little at the notion of my presence. Without a word I was pulled into a hug and almost instinctively I could feel my arms tightening around his waist, clutching at him never to let go. But I had to and noticing my warmth growing rapidly I reluctantly pulled away.
As people sipped at over-priced coffee and as even more hustled and bustled around us I felt like Mr. Cheese and I were the only ones there. Making small talk we avoided the real reason we were both here in the middle of London. Rummaging in his bag he pulled out my things and handed them to me. I thanked him. Concerned about his Grandad I asked how he was. Mr. Cheese confirmed that all was not well and he was very sick. A million different scenarios ran through my mind and at the same time and as heartbreaking as it was to say I knew I had to offer some comfort. As we stood there eyes wide and filling with tears, saying nothing and everything simultaneously and knowing that the end was nearing I ran through the plan in my head once more. As I opened my mouth to speak, Mr. Cheese shook his head, still piercing my heart with those bright blue eyes of his. Ignoring his gesture I continued.
"I will always be here for you. If you ever need me. Family, friends, work, anything. You know where I am." I croaked. I felt like I was in a Hollywood blockbuster but I knew that this wasn't going to end like it does in the movies. Taking my arm once more Mr. Cheese pulled me in for one last cuddle, confessing softly that he didn't want me to go. I agreed. I never wanted this to end. Ever. But I couldn't carry on. I cant carry on. I gave Mr. Cheese the chance to make it something wonderful but he chose not to. Slowly pulling away I went to start my well-rehearsed monologue but before I got a chance Mr. Cheese stole my spotlight. "Please don't go. I miss you." He said, voice breaking under every word whilst fighting back tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. Standing there in Kings Cross St Pancras there was still so much left to say. I wanted to scream at Mr. Cheese how obvious it is that this is right. How much I miss him as well. How I crave his attention and how I long for every part of him - His eyes, his beard, his lips, his hands, his hair. Hell even the tippee boobs and chest wig I will miss and all the little things that annoyed me about him.
In a way I saw that history was repeating itself in a way. Mr. Cheese had been in a similar situation only a year beforehand when a close family member passed away. Whilst I felt awful for having to do this now but I couldn't see any other way of fixing it. With his words I knew exactly what he wanted to say. I understood that Mr. Cheese missed me and I knew he didn't want me to go either but I think what he really wanted to say was 'I need you'. Gathering up the rest of my courage I pulled myself together to finish the show. I concluded with I had to go and that I will always love him. Kissing him softly and hearing my heart crack yet again I walked away, blending into the city crowds. As hot wet tears steamed I wondered where it had all gone wrong and if there was any hope of it blossoming again. But no. The chance was given and the choice was made. Now we have to lye in the beds that we made. Alone.
A relaxing spa, massage and a drink with an friend took the edge off my afternoon engagement however as the journey home took a hold I could help but well-up again and so terminated my Friday; Crying all the way home listening to Maroon 5 and Ed Sheeran. Oh how break-ups fail to disappoint. As Dad has always said - Its always better in the morning (Meaning issues, not sex although it is a valid point to make that sex in the morning is just as fun as when the sun goes down). Upon rising from my bed on Saturday morning with the acknowledgement that I have less than ten hours to put together all my furniture with the help of Papa and turn my flat into a home ready for my house-warming not to mention cramming in some food shopping and relaxy-time. After spending the day calming my father down about the 'poxy wardrobe' and 'wanking bed' (don't quite know how either of those are possible for inanimate objects but there you go, Dad logic) I then embarked on some food shopping and tidying for the evenings entertainment.
As I introduced the party guests to my humble home I was bombarded with Oohs and Ahhs and a steady flow of compliments from all and as we continued into the night I was glad I had something to occupy myself with although was fully aware that I still wasn't myself after yesterday's meeting. Saturday soon turned to Sunday and after waking up in all the wrong places, me and my entourage headed out for breakfast and not forgetting that I was having a date that afternoon with Mr. Minigolf I made sure to look my best. Unfortunately just after finishing breakfast I received a incredulous message that my date would have to be called off due to a break-in and that Mr. Minigolf and I would have to rearrange our little date for another time. In all honesty I think maybe some 'pieds froids' have taken hold although I am optimistic that we do want to meet-up at some point.
So that was my weekend, a somewhat bitter/sweet affair tinged with unfortunate incidents and sprinkled with erupting laughter and friends. Whilst the door is beginning to close on the saga with Mr. Cheese, I did receive a message from him asking to talk. I explained that I am more than happy to talk and to listen to what he has to say but I have said everything I want to a million times before, and whilst I cant see what difference it will make, I am happy to hear him out. Until that happens though I hope that I can get better and make life a little more happier than it has been ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So finally I can now put behind me another sickeningly romantic Valentines Day and look forward to the rest of what 2014 has to offer. So far I have Reading Festival '14 and not much else but with rumours of another mini-break to Chester with Miss Chocolate and possibly Miss Tatts our old college friend as well as a boozed up sunshine break with Miss Chocolate and friends too, there is much to anticipate over the coming months. However I feel that I have become more and more withdrawn over the past few weeks, slowly drifting further into the background, which as you all know is very unlike me. However I am sure I will pick myself off and find something fun to do although life hasn't been very fun this week. Allow me to explain ...
Rushing around like a headless chicken (Mmm Nando's) I tried my best to finish my mountain of work on my desk before finishing half-day on Friday. Who knew that having a spa day booked would be so stressful and energy-draining. But I must confess, that wasn't the only thing I was heading to London for. I had some stuff I needed to collect from Mr. Cheese that I had left at his flat I so wished to visit one last time, and conveniently for me that aggravatingly contradictory man was heading through Kings Cross St. Pancras Station as I was. Whilst I was going in for some retail therapy and a rub-down, he was heading out on a family weekend to York visiting Grandad Cheese in hospital. And so as I clambered onto the train with minutes to spare I wondered again about what would happen when we finally said goodbye for the very last time. Watching the trees and countryside of the home-counties rush past the window I knew that despite my planning and preparation for this concluding encounter I had been building up to since I took a stand on New Years Day that it could all fall apart as soon as we met. And to some extent it did.
Of course irony would have a part to play in all of this at some point, this is me were on about here, and right on cue we learnt that Mr. Cheese and I had ended up in the wrong parts of the station and as we had done on our first date, mostly down to my incompetence at geographical locations. Nevertheless I found him, that odd man in casual clothing looking nothing of the London sort, slumped against the glass wall of Starbucks trying to look calm but emulating an awkwardness and uneasiness at the whole situation. Approaching him with a strut in my step I desperately tried to stay calm, trying to remember all the things I would say and the positive crap Miss Tweedle-Dumb and Miss Tweedle-Dee had drummed into me the past few months, not to mention countless others. Standing in front of the taller-than-remembered Mr. Cheese I saw him relax a little at the notion of my presence. Without a word I was pulled into a hug and almost instinctively I could feel my arms tightening around his waist, clutching at him never to let go. But I had to and noticing my warmth growing rapidly I reluctantly pulled away.
As people sipped at over-priced coffee and as even more hustled and bustled around us I felt like Mr. Cheese and I were the only ones there. Making small talk we avoided the real reason we were both here in the middle of London. Rummaging in his bag he pulled out my things and handed them to me. I thanked him. Concerned about his Grandad I asked how he was. Mr. Cheese confirmed that all was not well and he was very sick. A million different scenarios ran through my mind and at the same time and as heartbreaking as it was to say I knew I had to offer some comfort. As we stood there eyes wide and filling with tears, saying nothing and everything simultaneously and knowing that the end was nearing I ran through the plan in my head once more. As I opened my mouth to speak, Mr. Cheese shook his head, still piercing my heart with those bright blue eyes of his. Ignoring his gesture I continued.
"I will always be here for you. If you ever need me. Family, friends, work, anything. You know where I am." I croaked. I felt like I was in a Hollywood blockbuster but I knew that this wasn't going to end like it does in the movies. Taking my arm once more Mr. Cheese pulled me in for one last cuddle, confessing softly that he didn't want me to go. I agreed. I never wanted this to end. Ever. But I couldn't carry on. I cant carry on. I gave Mr. Cheese the chance to make it something wonderful but he chose not to. Slowly pulling away I went to start my well-rehearsed monologue but before I got a chance Mr. Cheese stole my spotlight. "Please don't go. I miss you." He said, voice breaking under every word whilst fighting back tears that threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. Standing there in Kings Cross St Pancras there was still so much left to say. I wanted to scream at Mr. Cheese how obvious it is that this is right. How much I miss him as well. How I crave his attention and how I long for every part of him - His eyes, his beard, his lips, his hands, his hair. Hell even the tippee boobs and chest wig I will miss and all the little things that annoyed me about him.
In a way I saw that history was repeating itself in a way. Mr. Cheese had been in a similar situation only a year beforehand when a close family member passed away. Whilst I felt awful for having to do this now but I couldn't see any other way of fixing it. With his words I knew exactly what he wanted to say. I understood that Mr. Cheese missed me and I knew he didn't want me to go either but I think what he really wanted to say was 'I need you'. Gathering up the rest of my courage I pulled myself together to finish the show. I concluded with I had to go and that I will always love him. Kissing him softly and hearing my heart crack yet again I walked away, blending into the city crowds. As hot wet tears steamed I wondered where it had all gone wrong and if there was any hope of it blossoming again. But no. The chance was given and the choice was made. Now we have to lye in the beds that we made. Alone.
A relaxing spa, massage and a drink with an friend took the edge off my afternoon engagement however as the journey home took a hold I could help but well-up again and so terminated my Friday; Crying all the way home listening to Maroon 5 and Ed Sheeran. Oh how break-ups fail to disappoint. As Dad has always said - Its always better in the morning (Meaning issues, not sex although it is a valid point to make that sex in the morning is just as fun as when the sun goes down). Upon rising from my bed on Saturday morning with the acknowledgement that I have less than ten hours to put together all my furniture with the help of Papa and turn my flat into a home ready for my house-warming not to mention cramming in some food shopping and relaxy-time. After spending the day calming my father down about the 'poxy wardrobe' and 'wanking bed' (don't quite know how either of those are possible for inanimate objects but there you go, Dad logic) I then embarked on some food shopping and tidying for the evenings entertainment.
As I introduced the party guests to my humble home I was bombarded with Oohs and Ahhs and a steady flow of compliments from all and as we continued into the night I was glad I had something to occupy myself with although was fully aware that I still wasn't myself after yesterday's meeting. Saturday soon turned to Sunday and after waking up in all the wrong places, me and my entourage headed out for breakfast and not forgetting that I was having a date that afternoon with Mr. Minigolf I made sure to look my best. Unfortunately just after finishing breakfast I received a incredulous message that my date would have to be called off due to a break-in and that Mr. Minigolf and I would have to rearrange our little date for another time. In all honesty I think maybe some 'pieds froids' have taken hold although I am optimistic that we do want to meet-up at some point.
So that was my weekend, a somewhat bitter/sweet affair tinged with unfortunate incidents and sprinkled with erupting laughter and friends. Whilst the door is beginning to close on the saga with Mr. Cheese, I did receive a message from him asking to talk. I explained that I am more than happy to talk and to listen to what he has to say but I have said everything I want to a million times before, and whilst I cant see what difference it will make, I am happy to hear him out. Until that happens though I hope that I can get better and make life a little more happier than it has been ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 2 July 2013
To Date Or Not To Date?
Hello,
So no word from Mr. Workaholic this week, or his mother for that fact, which in some respects I'm glad of. I have enough drama and excitement in my life for them to cramp my style. But it did get me thinking about how it would be nice to have a new Mister about the place. After spending the weekend with family and Saturday afternoon discussing relationships with my beloved Grandmother I finally realised it time to get out there. And so commences my first look into dating since said train crash with Mr. Workaholic.
Its a scary place the dating scene, especially for an inexperienced little mite like me. You see other that 'The one that got away' that is Mr. Ginge and the notorious Mr. Workaholic, there hasn't really been anyone else. Apart from a few flings and silly teen relationships - Oh, and of course Mr. Coffee, there hasn't been anyone else. And besides where do you even meet people nower days when your twenty-one? I mean its not like I ever go out any more since Miss Chocolate has just moved into her new house so is pretty much broke and Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb have turned into thirty-year-old's; In fact I know even thirty-year-old's that go out more than they do. Don't get me wrong I love them to bits and would do anything for them, but they need to realise that they are still young and there is more to life than nights-in and slogging your guts out at work!
The majority of people meet each other through friends, in which I don't have very many close ones with tonnes of single male bachelor's or they meet at university, in which I chose not to go to as I wanted to build and create a life with Mr. Workaholic - And we all know where that ended up! It seems that the only place people my age meet is whilst intoxicated or under-the-influence in a nightclub at 3am when all other hopefuls have eloped and the only way to end the night would be to make a mistake by waking up next to someone in the morning you barely remember their face, let alone the name! The way it comes across is that meeting someone in a club on a night out is a bit like playing musical chairs - You have to find the best chair before your left with the one that has the dodgy leg and squeaks, and no-body wants that chair!
After dabbling around with the Channel 4 show 'First Dates' for the past couple of week's and not manifesting a single whiff of interest I have decided to take things into my own hands. Its not like I expected a line outside my door to date me or anything, but just someone remotely interested in me. Whilst I may really like lemons and have an admiration for all things dairy, I am quirky and interesting. I'm not one of these girls that is moody and uninterested in anything and everything. I love discovering and enjoying life. I love food and unlike some girls I'm not scared to feast on a steak or two. Yeah I'm a little lumpy in places but hey, isn't everyone? Isn't that what makes us different? If we were back in caveman days I would have been worshipped for my healthy appetite, large hips and vibrant personality. It would be me that survives, not someone with a waist smaller than a pencil and a head filled with nothing but hot air. But somehow its pencils a la hot air that attract all the men? I know that I would prefer to be with someone that was ugly but had a bit of pizazz about them that someone who looked like they had just stepped off stage from a Chippendale's show - Not that a Chippendale is my idea of a perfect man. In fact it couldn't be further from the truth.
I enjoy a man who is manly with a dash of femininity. Someone who takes care of themselves, but not too much. I also like a nice, jumper-wearing, guy who can make me laugh and that gets along with my friends and family. They're the people he will need to impress the most. I enjoy running my fingers through hair whilst in the moment if you follow the drift and I like other bodily hair, but I don't want to date chewbacca. I find little tufts of hair tucked away under the arms and on the chest cute and sweet. I just want a nice man to bring home to my family and friends, that isn't going to hurt me in the way that everyone has - With the exception of Mr. Ginge. I don't think that's too much to ask for? Well that and my four point check-list is also preferable ... Hair, Eyes, Shoes and Teeth.
Mind you, maybe the fact that most people my age aren't on dating websites or in the national papers appealing for dates should tells me that its not normal to get hung up on finding someone so young. I just feel that maybe time is ticking. I wasted so much time on Mr. Workaholic building our dreams and future that when it all collapsed I had nothing left. everything was burnt and that makes me want to be fire retardant for the rest of my life, but I cant help it, I just fall in love so easily. I'm not ready at the age of twenty-one to settle down and have the kids and the dog and the house and the nine-to-five yet. I still want to live my life. I have so much to see and do. I want to go on a crazy holiday to a party island with all my friends and drink so much we have to be carted home by the locals. I want to travel and see some of the world. I want to have some more nights that I think to myself 'Oh god, did I really do that?'
And so round and round I go with the quarterly-life crisis that is - To date or not to date? That is the question? I think I am ready, but am I really? I have a lot going on at the moment and a corker of a summer just around the corner - Would I really want to share that with anyone? I doubts it. Besides Ive got to move out soon. I have seen a few places and have a couple lined up to go and see some more but yes, it seems that it wont be long before I shall be broadcasting from a new location. Where is another matter though ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So no word from Mr. Workaholic this week, or his mother for that fact, which in some respects I'm glad of. I have enough drama and excitement in my life for them to cramp my style. But it did get me thinking about how it would be nice to have a new Mister about the place. After spending the weekend with family and Saturday afternoon discussing relationships with my beloved Grandmother I finally realised it time to get out there. And so commences my first look into dating since said train crash with Mr. Workaholic.
Its a scary place the dating scene, especially for an inexperienced little mite like me. You see other that 'The one that got away' that is Mr. Ginge and the notorious Mr. Workaholic, there hasn't really been anyone else. Apart from a few flings and silly teen relationships - Oh, and of course Mr. Coffee, there hasn't been anyone else. And besides where do you even meet people nower days when your twenty-one? I mean its not like I ever go out any more since Miss Chocolate has just moved into her new house so is pretty much broke and Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb have turned into thirty-year-old's; In fact I know even thirty-year-old's that go out more than they do. Don't get me wrong I love them to bits and would do anything for them, but they need to realise that they are still young and there is more to life than nights-in and slogging your guts out at work!
The majority of people meet each other through friends, in which I don't have very many close ones with tonnes of single male bachelor's or they meet at university, in which I chose not to go to as I wanted to build and create a life with Mr. Workaholic - And we all know where that ended up! It seems that the only place people my age meet is whilst intoxicated or under-the-influence in a nightclub at 3am when all other hopefuls have eloped and the only way to end the night would be to make a mistake by waking up next to someone in the morning you barely remember their face, let alone the name! The way it comes across is that meeting someone in a club on a night out is a bit like playing musical chairs - You have to find the best chair before your left with the one that has the dodgy leg and squeaks, and no-body wants that chair!
After dabbling around with the Channel 4 show 'First Dates' for the past couple of week's and not manifesting a single whiff of interest I have decided to take things into my own hands. Its not like I expected a line outside my door to date me or anything, but just someone remotely interested in me. Whilst I may really like lemons and have an admiration for all things dairy, I am quirky and interesting. I'm not one of these girls that is moody and uninterested in anything and everything. I love discovering and enjoying life. I love food and unlike some girls I'm not scared to feast on a steak or two. Yeah I'm a little lumpy in places but hey, isn't everyone? Isn't that what makes us different? If we were back in caveman days I would have been worshipped for my healthy appetite, large hips and vibrant personality. It would be me that survives, not someone with a waist smaller than a pencil and a head filled with nothing but hot air. But somehow its pencils a la hot air that attract all the men? I know that I would prefer to be with someone that was ugly but had a bit of pizazz about them that someone who looked like they had just stepped off stage from a Chippendale's show - Not that a Chippendale is my idea of a perfect man. In fact it couldn't be further from the truth.
I enjoy a man who is manly with a dash of femininity. Someone who takes care of themselves, but not too much. I also like a nice, jumper-wearing, guy who can make me laugh and that gets along with my friends and family. They're the people he will need to impress the most. I enjoy running my fingers through hair whilst in the moment if you follow the drift and I like other bodily hair, but I don't want to date chewbacca. I find little tufts of hair tucked away under the arms and on the chest cute and sweet. I just want a nice man to bring home to my family and friends, that isn't going to hurt me in the way that everyone has - With the exception of Mr. Ginge. I don't think that's too much to ask for? Well that and my four point check-list is also preferable ... Hair, Eyes, Shoes and Teeth.
Mind you, maybe the fact that most people my age aren't on dating websites or in the national papers appealing for dates should tells me that its not normal to get hung up on finding someone so young. I just feel that maybe time is ticking. I wasted so much time on Mr. Workaholic building our dreams and future that when it all collapsed I had nothing left. everything was burnt and that makes me want to be fire retardant for the rest of my life, but I cant help it, I just fall in love so easily. I'm not ready at the age of twenty-one to settle down and have the kids and the dog and the house and the nine-to-five yet. I still want to live my life. I have so much to see and do. I want to go on a crazy holiday to a party island with all my friends and drink so much we have to be carted home by the locals. I want to travel and see some of the world. I want to have some more nights that I think to myself 'Oh god, did I really do that?'
And so round and round I go with the quarterly-life crisis that is - To date or not to date? That is the question? I think I am ready, but am I really? I have a lot going on at the moment and a corker of a summer just around the corner - Would I really want to share that with anyone? I doubts it. Besides Ive got to move out soon. I have seen a few places and have a couple lined up to go and see some more but yes, it seems that it wont be long before I shall be broadcasting from a new location. Where is another matter though ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
The Grass Might Not Always Be Greener On The Other Side
Evening All,
I hope you have been keeping well. I have. So, after last weeks awkwardness with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's and Miss Tweedle-Dee's work colleague, Miss Lace, I am pleased to announce that everything is as normal and we are in mutual agreement that Miss Lace's feelings are not serious. At least that's what I am being told, I still feel that there might be more than meets the eye - Watch this space!
This week I finished my job with the local flooring company and once I had passed all my training with my new company I took my last journey to outer Bedfordshire to say my goodbye's and collect my things from my old office. Everyone was somewhat shocked to see me go which surprised me given the fact that nothing was rarely kept quiet, especially someone leaving. Regardless they were all lovely and courteous about my departure and wished me all the best as did I. To be honest I actually felt a little sad I was leaving despite only being there less than four months. I suppose I just felt as if this would be the final in a a long string of jobs I have previously had. A small part of me felt let down recalling what Mr. Workaholic had said last time I had to encounter his massive, fat head. (See Post 'A Shock, An Invitation And Compulsory Meeting') Mr. Workaholic's words still ring clear in my ears as I remember him attempting small talk in the seating area of my local bank. Referring to the flooring company role I had recently landed at the time he scoffed 'So, are you actually planning on keeping this job then?' At the time I was so shocked and taken aback by what he had said that I simply brushed it off icily and said something like 'Of course' but secretly I was completely blown away by his arrogance and sheer uncompasionate nature, given the fact that we had sent nearly two years of highs and lows together, you would think he would be more thoughtful of what was coming out of the hole in his face. Maybe not though! However it is not this Ex that plays on my mind as much lately. Following a date night with Miss Chocolate and and old college friend, Miss Tatts, of ours a few weeks ago my first serious boyfriend has been popping up more often than usual. As we all bumbled down the residential street towards Miss Tatts house we passed a familiar driveway. Upon closer inspection I noticed a copper haired gentleman in the driver's seat of a learner vehicle. Chills sparkled up my spine as I realised I had just seen my first love in nearly four years.
I suppose we all have a love boxed up inside us labelled 'The One That Got Away' and for me that was my first serious relationship with Mr. Ginge. Now, Mr. Ginge arrived on the scene shortly after I finished attending High School with Mr. Coffee and Mr. Woof; and long, long before Mr. Workaholic. We met rather conventionally though Sixth Form. Childhood sweethearts you could call it. On my first day I made friends with a young chap who introduced me to all of his peers. Amongst the misfits and outcasts was Mr. Ginge. Taller than the rest at about 6ft something and with fiery red hair he was hard to miss. At the time I was unusually shy and when it came to our first encounter Mr. Ginger made sure I wouldn't forget him. Thinking I was cool a few days into term, I handed round a note pad for everyone to sign their mobile numbers and e-mail addresses so as to contact them outside of the study hours. But when it came to Mr. Ginge's turn he disregarded my simple blue Biro he took out a massive black marker pen and began to write his details in the rest of the book, using up a page for a single, scrawled letter. Smiling and acting coy we flirted for a week or two both inside and outside of the school gates. Looking back I can see that he boyish pokes, jokes and hitting was just a bad attempt at flirting and an excuse to touch me. Men, eh?
On the eve of my 17th birthday we began chatting via E-mail. Mr. Ginge had just got in from doing Cadet's training to be in the Army and was tired but had something to tell me. As my eyes scanned the laptop screen that evening I read over and over how this handsome lad that I had only know for less than three weeks was telling me how beautiful I was and how he loved to hear me laugh. "I love your cuddles," he typed continuing with "your eyes are something magical too." Flattered and still in slight shock he asked me to be his girlfriend. Cockily I said that if he had the balls to do it in person I would oblige and so he vowed that tomorrow on my 17th birthday he would ask me out. Less than 12 hours later were standing on opposite ends of the court-yard at Sixth Form avoiding each other completely and discussing what to do with friends. Finally after a whilst our friends forced us into a quieter area together and then scurried round the corner to hear what was going on. With me hiding behind a fan of birthday cards and Mr. Ginge chewing on the end of a yogurt sachet, he made the proposal again. within moments of me saying 'yes' we had all our friends rallying around us congratulating and asking for kisses and weirdly pictures of the newly 'wed' couple. Following that happy moment came more than a years worth of terrible times in my life, all of which Mr. Ginge stuck by me. I think its safe to say that there were more low's than high's and he could have easily ran a mile at the first whiff of trouble. But he didn't. He stayed with me and made life bearable. Some of my brightest moments I shared with that man and I can honestly say that there will always be a place in my heart for him.
However all was not well in paradise and after transferring to College in mid-September we hit a rough patch. Mr. Ginge and I went from seeing each other every day to barely seeing each other once a week and it took its toll. After a while I wondered weather this was it. Was Mr. Ginge 'The One'? Was he the man I was destine to grow old with and start a family? Was this all life had to offer? After a year and a month I called an end to mine and Mr. Ginge's relationship. He was devastated and completely at a loss with heart-break. Ironically I was to undergo the exact same treatment less than three years later with Mr. Workaholic. Like me I never fully explained myself before calling it off and like Mr. Workaholic, wanted to see if there was more to life than just that. Sadly I think that that initial first experience with Mr. Ginge made my separation from Mr. Workaholic all the more harder. I knew that this was something that Mr. Workaholic had to do in order to live life in a way that would not have been possible given our relationship, but ultimately that decision is one I hope he both regrets and looks back on as I do with my relationship with Mr. Ginge.
A part of me wonders weather Mr. Ginge thinks about me as I think about him. Does he wonder what I am doing? Does he think about what I do? Does he reflect on the memories we shared? I do. I sometimes contemplate what life would be like now if we had stayed together. Would we have moved away together to university? And would we have built the foundations of life yet? All these things I shall never know. So maybe I learnt the heard way that the grass might not always be greener on the other side ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
I hope you have been keeping well. I have. So, after last weeks awkwardness with Miss Tweedle-Dumb's and Miss Tweedle-Dee's work colleague, Miss Lace, I am pleased to announce that everything is as normal and we are in mutual agreement that Miss Lace's feelings are not serious. At least that's what I am being told, I still feel that there might be more than meets the eye - Watch this space!
This week I finished my job with the local flooring company and once I had passed all my training with my new company I took my last journey to outer Bedfordshire to say my goodbye's and collect my things from my old office. Everyone was somewhat shocked to see me go which surprised me given the fact that nothing was rarely kept quiet, especially someone leaving. Regardless they were all lovely and courteous about my departure and wished me all the best as did I. To be honest I actually felt a little sad I was leaving despite only being there less than four months. I suppose I just felt as if this would be the final in a a long string of jobs I have previously had. A small part of me felt let down recalling what Mr. Workaholic had said last time I had to encounter his massive, fat head. (See Post 'A Shock, An Invitation And Compulsory Meeting') Mr. Workaholic's words still ring clear in my ears as I remember him attempting small talk in the seating area of my local bank. Referring to the flooring company role I had recently landed at the time he scoffed 'So, are you actually planning on keeping this job then?' At the time I was so shocked and taken aback by what he had said that I simply brushed it off icily and said something like 'Of course' but secretly I was completely blown away by his arrogance and sheer uncompasionate nature, given the fact that we had sent nearly two years of highs and lows together, you would think he would be more thoughtful of what was coming out of the hole in his face. Maybe not though! However it is not this Ex that plays on my mind as much lately. Following a date night with Miss Chocolate and and old college friend, Miss Tatts, of ours a few weeks ago my first serious boyfriend has been popping up more often than usual. As we all bumbled down the residential street towards Miss Tatts house we passed a familiar driveway. Upon closer inspection I noticed a copper haired gentleman in the driver's seat of a learner vehicle. Chills sparkled up my spine as I realised I had just seen my first love in nearly four years.
I suppose we all have a love boxed up inside us labelled 'The One That Got Away' and for me that was my first serious relationship with Mr. Ginge. Now, Mr. Ginge arrived on the scene shortly after I finished attending High School with Mr. Coffee and Mr. Woof; and long, long before Mr. Workaholic. We met rather conventionally though Sixth Form. Childhood sweethearts you could call it. On my first day I made friends with a young chap who introduced me to all of his peers. Amongst the misfits and outcasts was Mr. Ginge. Taller than the rest at about 6ft something and with fiery red hair he was hard to miss. At the time I was unusually shy and when it came to our first encounter Mr. Ginger made sure I wouldn't forget him. Thinking I was cool a few days into term, I handed round a note pad for everyone to sign their mobile numbers and e-mail addresses so as to contact them outside of the study hours. But when it came to Mr. Ginge's turn he disregarded my simple blue Biro he took out a massive black marker pen and began to write his details in the rest of the book, using up a page for a single, scrawled letter. Smiling and acting coy we flirted for a week or two both inside and outside of the school gates. Looking back I can see that he boyish pokes, jokes and hitting was just a bad attempt at flirting and an excuse to touch me. Men, eh?
On the eve of my 17th birthday we began chatting via E-mail. Mr. Ginge had just got in from doing Cadet's training to be in the Army and was tired but had something to tell me. As my eyes scanned the laptop screen that evening I read over and over how this handsome lad that I had only know for less than three weeks was telling me how beautiful I was and how he loved to hear me laugh. "I love your cuddles," he typed continuing with "your eyes are something magical too." Flattered and still in slight shock he asked me to be his girlfriend. Cockily I said that if he had the balls to do it in person I would oblige and so he vowed that tomorrow on my 17th birthday he would ask me out. Less than 12 hours later were standing on opposite ends of the court-yard at Sixth Form avoiding each other completely and discussing what to do with friends. Finally after a whilst our friends forced us into a quieter area together and then scurried round the corner to hear what was going on. With me hiding behind a fan of birthday cards and Mr. Ginge chewing on the end of a yogurt sachet, he made the proposal again. within moments of me saying 'yes' we had all our friends rallying around us congratulating and asking for kisses and weirdly pictures of the newly 'wed' couple. Following that happy moment came more than a years worth of terrible times in my life, all of which Mr. Ginge stuck by me. I think its safe to say that there were more low's than high's and he could have easily ran a mile at the first whiff of trouble. But he didn't. He stayed with me and made life bearable. Some of my brightest moments I shared with that man and I can honestly say that there will always be a place in my heart for him.
However all was not well in paradise and after transferring to College in mid-September we hit a rough patch. Mr. Ginge and I went from seeing each other every day to barely seeing each other once a week and it took its toll. After a while I wondered weather this was it. Was Mr. Ginge 'The One'? Was he the man I was destine to grow old with and start a family? Was this all life had to offer? After a year and a month I called an end to mine and Mr. Ginge's relationship. He was devastated and completely at a loss with heart-break. Ironically I was to undergo the exact same treatment less than three years later with Mr. Workaholic. Like me I never fully explained myself before calling it off and like Mr. Workaholic, wanted to see if there was more to life than just that. Sadly I think that that initial first experience with Mr. Ginge made my separation from Mr. Workaholic all the more harder. I knew that this was something that Mr. Workaholic had to do in order to live life in a way that would not have been possible given our relationship, but ultimately that decision is one I hope he both regrets and looks back on as I do with my relationship with Mr. Ginge.
A part of me wonders weather Mr. Ginge thinks about me as I think about him. Does he wonder what I am doing? Does he think about what I do? Does he reflect on the memories we shared? I do. I sometimes contemplate what life would be like now if we had stayed together. Would we have moved away together to university? And would we have built the foundations of life yet? All these things I shall never know. So maybe I learnt the heard way that the grass might not always be greener on the other side ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
A Termination And A Flirtation ...
Hi,
Following a roller coaster of a weekend last week with Miss Chocolate things have slowed down a bit, almost to a halt. This past week I have been thinking 'Isnt it funny how things turn out sometimes?' - You put so much of your time and energy into working and then realise that its all in vain, particularly when it comes to the termination of employment. Weather it be on good terms or not, the feelings are still the same and ones that I am familiar with, but strangely not as much this time around. If you haven't already cottoned on to what I'm trying to say then I shall explain how I have become newly unemployed.
After a few months working in the offices of a flooring company and weeks of knowing that I will probably not be continuing my career there I am finally out of the job. The explanation was simple. The last lady that worked there had done so for more than fifteen years and was at the top of her game before leaving just before Christmas last year. I was to replace her and with that my employers presumed that I would quickly be able to match her standards of working, which obviously is impossible in such a short amount of time. Like I said it was a long time coming and so don't feel completely awful about the situation as I have had some time to prepare for it. The two office staff that I work with explained that it wasn't anything personal and that they would be more than happy to give me a good reference. I knew that they were being honest as we all got along very well; I just think that maybe they had underestimated the job and its duties. Regardless, its not the end of the world. I finish there officially yesterday but am choosing to keep working for another fortnight to get some extra cash for my holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in just over a month's time.
Speaking of Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, we have patched things up and are learning that we are all different and think differently too. We met last Wednesday at a local pub after I briefly hosted them in last weeks post. There were tears and laughter but essentially we sorted it all out and after which we started discussing our up and coming holiday to Mallorca, Spain in a few weeks time. The night was wearing to the end and graciously Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me a ride to the station. I obliged and we walked to the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tipsily singing our way down the street. However what we found when we located the small blue car was like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. flashing lights, the rev of car engines and youths stood around watching the Hundreds of cars parade up and down the car-park. My dear friend had only parked where a car rally was due to be hosted that night. Probably drawn up on some social networking site and with lost of scary noises and faces about we tried to search for the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggling to keep our giggling under control. 'Call the police' I thought, whilst we bundled into the small vehicle, an idea that both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb agreed with. My reasoning not to call them was that there was not trouble and we would be safe. In fact I had noticed a few faces I had attended high school with some years ago. After what seemed like an eternity we were finally let out of our small parking spaced and allowed to go on our way, but not with some heavy persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to make Miss Tweedle-Dumb drive round the car park and join in with the hooded youngsters. As we sped away the sounds of banging exhausts and bouncing bass faded into the distance along with the city noises that I was already familiar with.
As a matter of fact I have just come back from an evening spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and a rather amorous friend of theirs. An impromptu trip to a nearby house-ware shop was this evening s entertainment, followed up by a side helping of guilt and awkwardness. So after I had told them both of the recent job situation, they had invited themselves round and said that later we would hit the pub for a few. Subsequently a few hours into my work day I get a phone call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb asking if I would prefer to hit the shops instead. And, as a red-blooded female whose just been paid of course I'm not going to turn down a bit of retail therapy, even if I don't buy anything. A work colleague of Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's, Miss Lace, tagged along for the ride too. Now, my 'relationship' with Miss Lace is slightly awkward I feel. Ever since we met on a cold, blustery night in November ready to watch the fireworks back home, I have always felt something that's not quiet right between us. Its not because we didn't hit it off or didn't get on well, in fact I feel that's its quiet the opposite.
What with it being the first time I had met Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work friends (Miss Lace included) I tried to make an effort to impress and make them comfortable in my presence. But something was different between Miss Lace and I. I didn't mention this to the girls and kept it to myself, thinking that I was just being silly, but in late December I confessed what I thought might be true. "Now, I don't want to blow my ow trumpet" I started once the conversation had been brought up. ''But I think that maybe she fancies me?!'' I couldn't quite believe I had just said that. It sounded so egotistical and pig-headed of me. I instantly brushed it off but ever since I have never been able to tell weather Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's jokes about Miss Lace and I are just that, jokes, or are they more with some sort of cryptic clues behind them. I mean, I'm all up for a laugh and a joke, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings,especially if what I think and what I'm being told is true and that Miss Lace does have a 'thing' for me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm only into men and I don't share the same feelings that Miss Lace may or may not have for me. I know that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb like to make little quips and have fun, but sometimes it goes too far. What makes it worse is that I don't really know Miss Lace that well and as a result don't know her sense of humour so going along with the rest of the gang may not be in such good taste. Naturally I am a flirtatious and friendly person, wanting to include everyone in everything and let them in with open arms but I feel myself clamming up whenever I am around Miss Lace for fear of leading her along or making her think that there is something blossoming when there really isn't. To be honest it is somewhat stressful not knowing how to deal with a situation that could or could not be.
If Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work colleague does have a soft-spot for me then I am flattered but at the same time have the uneasy conversation of not receipting those feelings and apologising for a possible false pretence - Something I don't really want to do. Regardless, I am sure its all a joke and it will work out better in the end. It always does ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
Following a roller coaster of a weekend last week with Miss Chocolate things have slowed down a bit, almost to a halt. This past week I have been thinking 'Isnt it funny how things turn out sometimes?' - You put so much of your time and energy into working and then realise that its all in vain, particularly when it comes to the termination of employment. Weather it be on good terms or not, the feelings are still the same and ones that I am familiar with, but strangely not as much this time around. If you haven't already cottoned on to what I'm trying to say then I shall explain how I have become newly unemployed.
After a few months working in the offices of a flooring company and weeks of knowing that I will probably not be continuing my career there I am finally out of the job. The explanation was simple. The last lady that worked there had done so for more than fifteen years and was at the top of her game before leaving just before Christmas last year. I was to replace her and with that my employers presumed that I would quickly be able to match her standards of working, which obviously is impossible in such a short amount of time. Like I said it was a long time coming and so don't feel completely awful about the situation as I have had some time to prepare for it. The two office staff that I work with explained that it wasn't anything personal and that they would be more than happy to give me a good reference. I knew that they were being honest as we all got along very well; I just think that maybe they had underestimated the job and its duties. Regardless, its not the end of the world. I finish there officially yesterday but am choosing to keep working for another fortnight to get some extra cash for my holiday with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb in just over a month's time.
Speaking of Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb, we have patched things up and are learning that we are all different and think differently too. We met last Wednesday at a local pub after I briefly hosted them in last weeks post. There were tears and laughter but essentially we sorted it all out and after which we started discussing our up and coming holiday to Mallorca, Spain in a few weeks time. The night was wearing to the end and graciously Miss Tweedle-Dumb offered me a ride to the station. I obliged and we walked to the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I tipsily singing our way down the street. However what we found when we located the small blue car was like a scene from a Hollywood blockbuster. flashing lights, the rev of car engines and youths stood around watching the Hundreds of cars parade up and down the car-park. My dear friend had only parked where a car rally was due to be hosted that night. Probably drawn up on some social networking site and with lost of scary noises and faces about we tried to search for the car, Miss Tweedle-Dee and I struggling to keep our giggling under control. 'Call the police' I thought, whilst we bundled into the small vehicle, an idea that both Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb agreed with. My reasoning not to call them was that there was not trouble and we would be safe. In fact I had noticed a few faces I had attended high school with some years ago. After what seemed like an eternity we were finally let out of our small parking spaced and allowed to go on our way, but not with some heavy persuasion from Miss Tweedle-Dee and I to make Miss Tweedle-Dumb drive round the car park and join in with the hooded youngsters. As we sped away the sounds of banging exhausts and bouncing bass faded into the distance along with the city noises that I was already familiar with.
As a matter of fact I have just come back from an evening spent with Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb and a rather amorous friend of theirs. An impromptu trip to a nearby house-ware shop was this evening s entertainment, followed up by a side helping of guilt and awkwardness. So after I had told them both of the recent job situation, they had invited themselves round and said that later we would hit the pub for a few. Subsequently a few hours into my work day I get a phone call from Miss Tweedle-Dumb asking if I would prefer to hit the shops instead. And, as a red-blooded female whose just been paid of course I'm not going to turn down a bit of retail therapy, even if I don't buy anything. A work colleague of Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's, Miss Lace, tagged along for the ride too. Now, my 'relationship' with Miss Lace is slightly awkward I feel. Ever since we met on a cold, blustery night in November ready to watch the fireworks back home, I have always felt something that's not quiet right between us. Its not because we didn't hit it off or didn't get on well, in fact I feel that's its quiet the opposite.
What with it being the first time I had met Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work friends (Miss Lace included) I tried to make an effort to impress and make them comfortable in my presence. But something was different between Miss Lace and I. I didn't mention this to the girls and kept it to myself, thinking that I was just being silly, but in late December I confessed what I thought might be true. "Now, I don't want to blow my ow trumpet" I started once the conversation had been brought up. ''But I think that maybe she fancies me?!'' I couldn't quite believe I had just said that. It sounded so egotistical and pig-headed of me. I instantly brushed it off but ever since I have never been able to tell weather Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's jokes about Miss Lace and I are just that, jokes, or are they more with some sort of cryptic clues behind them. I mean, I'm all up for a laugh and a joke, but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings,especially if what I think and what I'm being told is true and that Miss Lace does have a 'thing' for me. Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm only into men and I don't share the same feelings that Miss Lace may or may not have for me. I know that Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb like to make little quips and have fun, but sometimes it goes too far. What makes it worse is that I don't really know Miss Lace that well and as a result don't know her sense of humour so going along with the rest of the gang may not be in such good taste. Naturally I am a flirtatious and friendly person, wanting to include everyone in everything and let them in with open arms but I feel myself clamming up whenever I am around Miss Lace for fear of leading her along or making her think that there is something blossoming when there really isn't. To be honest it is somewhat stressful not knowing how to deal with a situation that could or could not be.
If Miss Tweedle-Dee's and Miss Tweedle-Dumb's work colleague does have a soft-spot for me then I am flattered but at the same time have the uneasy conversation of not receipting those feelings and apologising for a possible false pretence - Something I don't really want to do. Regardless, I am sure its all a joke and it will work out better in the end. It always does ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou :) xx
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