Dear Diary,
Today finds me sat on my bed in a towel, dripping all over the keyboard, getting ready for work. And it's just occurred to me how utterly ridiculous I am.
I am going through all this - showering, straightening my hair, trying out new make-up styles and putting in my contact lenses; all just so that I can look good for a man. Namely, a man who is my boss. Namely a man who has about 60 of us, all wearing the same clothes and doing the same job, working for him. Namely a man who probably only knows my name because of my name badge. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME???! Am I seriously expecting him, in that lovely brain of his, to take time out from mentally running over table checklists, guest capacity, vegetarian meals and the like to think; "Cor blimey, her normally curly hair has gone straight today! And just look at that bold eye make-up...... and gosh, how toned her skin looks! This divine picture of womanhood is starting a party behind my flies!"
I despair. Must make another list to distract myself from this burgeoning infuriation.
I WENT TO SUPERDRUG TODAY AND BOUGHT:
A packet of foundation sponges
A tube of concealer (for those ever-present bags)
A tube of fierce hot-pink lipstick a' la Cheryl Cole
A pair of pearl earrings for 99p
An eyelash-untangling brush
A red heart-shaped pendant
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Current Mood: slightly grrrrrrrrr
Current Music: "Sweet Sangria" - Tori Amos
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