I think I’ve reached a small milestone with my new job, I finally know enough that getting there in the morning does not invoke a panic attack and I was sent home sick with the flu, in fact most of the team was we were all incubating germs like a B grade sci-fi movie…..and upon my return to work today I found that despite being totally behind and under the pump I actually missed the place and some of the people. So I am happy for now….talk to me after my attempt at website maintenance next week and I may be back to asthma attack in a brown paper bag territory.
Before you click the little “x” at the corner of the screen and think ? what is going on with Enid, I didn’t subscribe to this blog for poorly executed tales of joy and fancy! I came for the hard stuff, humiliation and irreverent use of the word Cunt. So my friends I will offer you this piece of humiliation to keep you all feeling good about yourselves…In an attempt to look cute and professional like the other women in my office I purchased a few pairs of pointy high heel shoes and after a few strides at the store decided they were walkable. The problem is a few strides does not compare to the mammoth walk along what looks like a communist catwalk (you know what I mean..that awful Government building carpet) to get to the bloody printer…and I have to print stuff off all the time. So my pointy shoes soon turn into Enid’s big fat toes present: Escape from Black Plastic Island. When I look down my toes look like vienna sausages trying desperately to escape from the clutches of my peep toe shoe. This results in three types of walks, first is the Pirate limp, then the I’ve got a rod up my ass waddle and finally the stop-start shuffle were I naively put all my hopes on stopping mid stride and repositioning my foot. I swear I must look like a very “special” person…It’s humiliating.
I keep thinking that the more I get used to it the more I will bend my chubby destiny into submission but it’s not doing wonders for my self-esteem. In fact each of the walks reminds me of the time I was watching video hits back in the day and the music video for “21 Questions by 50 cent” came on and just as I was about to barrel a piece of sponge cake into my mouth 50 or “fiddy” rapped the line “I love you like a fat kid loves cake” That’s right…the crumbs dribbled into my cleavage along with my chubby tears that morning because I got served by fucking coinage… damn you 50 cent! But the difference between that sponge eating girl and this hobbling woman is I will not give up, tomorrow I will wear the same damn shoes until my feet are pointed and full of bunions as they should be! After all pain is beauty, not cake Enid.
Ta Ta for now.