Today I had a massage and while it was meant to be a treat for myself before I begin my new job and attempt to climb the public service ladder I realised I don’t feel comfortable with people touching me. So what a treat, I get to feel like a bit of a whale beached on a hard plastic table where I imagine the woman who is doing the massaging looking at my white trash/care bear inspired heart tattoo and wondering who exactly hurt me.
And damaged I am you see I keep doing strange things, letting my crazy out through objects and food. Case in point I went through a phase where whenever I opened a tub of yoghurt I would blow on it to cool it down as if it was a bowl of hot soup, it happened so many times I’ve stopped eating yoghurt. Or a common one, leaving my car keys in odd places like the ignition of my unlocked car for three hours while I lunch. Or throwing them in my recycling bin on two separate occasions which left me no choice but to tip it over on my lawn and go fishing for it usually in front of my disapproving elderly neighbours.
I went out socializing with some of Andy’s work colleagues at Burswood on saturday night and during the celebration I had what Oprah might call a light bulb moment. Thank fuck I am married because my friend there are slim pickings out there. Small Vietnamese women, a couple of extras from the movie romper stomper or an extremely overweight female Bogan stuffed into a boob tube and a kmart options plus leopard mini skirt. I know because I have the same skirt but I do the world a solid and wear long black leggings underneath so to hide my chunky legged shame. I danced to a cover band in the middle of the casino with these freaks, all to please a 48 year old Canadian woman I barely know, I guess my humiliation means nothing if I can put a smile on a foreigners face. That being said the highlight of the evening had to be when the band played “their” final song…a cover of my most hated song, Kings of Leon sex on fire- ha! just listening to an ugly cover band singer belting out his rendition of that horrid song should have been enough punishment but instead I danced to it and watched while the elderly asian and very loving couple behind me sang along grinding at each other as tenderly-elderly as possible.
The really sad thing is if I was single I probably still wouldn’t have been picked up by one of those losers.
A happily married Enid (thank the lord)
p.s Upon re-reading this post I am aware that I come across as arrogant and a bit racist/ageist! It was not the plan, I only embrace my arrogant tendencies 🙂