When I was about five years old, my mother bought me a bright yellow tracksuit. It was one of those hideous eighties tracksuits, with the round-neck collar, and cuffs on both the wrists and the ankles. The front sweater read "If you think I'm cute, wait til you see my Mummy!" I don't think I got the joke on the front myself, but the adults around me always found it hilarious, so whenever I was wearing that tracksuit, I felt like a million dollars.
One sunny day (it must have been a Sunday...or during my dad's summer holidays from work) I was wearing my yellow tracksuit, complete with ugly navy eighties plimsolls and red-rimmed plastic sunglasses. I thought I looked so stunningly fantastic that I dragged a deckchair into the front garden and there I sat, in front of the garage, on display for all of the neighbours to admire. This not being enough, I summoned my dad from inside the house to come out and take a photo of me, thus providing proof of how phenomenal I looked, for all time.
That photo still exists, and in it I am gazing toothily up at the camera, all scraggly-haired, legs crossed, a la sophisticated women in high fashion images the world over.
It is an aim of mine that one day I will feel again so unselfconsciously fantastic that I will be dragging somebody out into the sunshine to take photos of my fabulousness to be immortalised forever.
Aw, that was a great blog entry. Made me smile so it did :)
ReplyDeleteThanks Debo. It's great to know you're reading. :)
ReplyDeleteIt is indeed a very nice and funny story. I hope this day will come sooner than you would expect it.
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