Plan A or Plan B?

So what is the sitting protocol for wearing a short flowing skirt these days? When you sit down, do you A) place your skirt neatly around your legs, exposing you naked thighs to your seat or B) Try and sweep the skirt under your thighs as it bunches up under your legs. Well today I tried both, and neither seemed to work out well for me. Sat on the bus I spread my lovely cream skirt around the top of my legs and decided not to sit directly on it. Little did I know someone was about to sit next to me straight on to my skirt. I tried quickly moving my skirt from the offending sitter, but my reaction time was too slow (flip). I was now stuck. All I could do was hope and pray he would get off the bus before me. I sat and waited. I saw my bus stop coming up, and he wasn’t budging in the slightest. I guess you could say I started to panic a little. In a hurried state I hoisted myself from my seat a bit too quick, where my skirt stretch downwards and the quickly pinged itself upwards revealing my little light pink thong(I don’t know what was worse, my exposed crotch or his horrified face). Red faced I patted my skirt down and made my exit from the bus. Option A was a bad idea, so I decided option B was going to be today’s choice. It was lunchtime and it was 22 degrees outside, so I decided to go out for lunch. I found a bench on a field and sat down to eat me lunch, scooping my skirt neatly under my legs (as I didn't want a repeat of the bus incident). By the time I had finished my lunch, the sun was so hot I felt as if I was slowly melting. I got up from the bench, moving my hand under my legs along with the skirt to make sure it didn't get tucked up in my underwear (knowing my luck that would happen). As I grabbed my skirt I felt a warm damp material, I realised the scorching sun had made a sweat patch on my bum! I swiveled my head around to see a small, but noticeable damp blotch on my cream skirt (shit it looks like I've wet myself)! I scramble for my bag and press it against my bum. Plan B had not gone to plan! As I walked back to my office I held my bag close to my bum. Let’s just say I got some strange looks.

Hairdressers do NOT listen!

To the salon my disaster of what I call hair and I went. I would love to say this was a pleasant experience, but from the word go it had been a bit chaotic (no surprise there then). I walked into the salon and was greeted with a sea of hellos. I then went and sat down in a chair and got ready for someone to come and attend my hair (so far so good eh?). 

A male hairdresser suddenly came along and told me that the original plan to dye and highlight my hair would never work, and could potentially turn it orange (serious panic time). He suggested I go a shade darker than what I wanted and for me to have a think and come back another day, and also informed me that it would cost a lot more (is this guy flipping kidding!). I sat there panicking as I needed my hair done TODAY and needed it not to be orange (Not too much to ask for I thought). Well I can tell you, I ignored the advice and stood my ground! 

I was offered all kinds of drinks and snacks, not wanting to make a fuss I said no (even though the lattes with biscuits on the side looked so darn good). Highlighted and dyed my hair was and to the sink my hair was directed (Now for the relaxing bit). 

So I lead my head back into the sink and was hit by a burning sensation on my head. The lady asked if the temperature of the water was okay, not wanting to make a fuss (though glistening eyes) I said it was absolutely fine. My head was literally on fire (ironic). Could it get any worse? YES. The sink had all of a sudden become strangely uncomfortable and my neck was killing me. I was lead there getting what was meant to be a nice head massage, but instead I had a torture device drilling into the back of my neck (If they ever wanted to extract information from someone, screw the pulling out of teeth, let them lye their head back in this dam sink). After an excruciating 30 minutes (of course I didn't say anything as I didn't want to make a fuss), I was allowed to raise me head (was my neck broken? Did I need a neck brace? I am literally not exaggerating; it felt as if someone had taken a sledge hammer to my neck). So I will admit the colour wasn't half bad, I was looking for a bit lighter, but I did actually like it (kind of impossible not to like it, with how bad it looked before). 

 It was now time for the important bit (cutting my hair). The hairdresser asked how much I wanted off the ends; I of course said less than half an inch. The hairdresser takes this with a pinch of salt (I may as well have been speaking Chinese)! So she began to cut, and I was pleased (very pleased). Then she carried on, and I became less and less pleased. Of course I didn't say anything as I didn't want to make a fuss, instead telepathically trying to tell this woman to stop. A good 10 minutes later, I had given up on the idea that she could read my mind and accepted my hair was ruined. 

So cliff notes, I left the salon with a colour I didn't ask for, with the length that was way too short and a maxed out credit card (of course I had to give here a tip as well, what would they have thought if I hadn't tipped). Here is a tip for you ladies that doesn't cost a thing, make a bloody fuss when it comes to your hair! Or you will end up coming out of the salon wanting to cry and walking into a hair shop looking for a decent wig.   


Chatty Yaz (Women's Worries)

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Let Rihanna Keep Her Red!

So my day begins at the early rise of 6.50AM. I get dressed, brush my teeth & hair (obviously not with the same brush) and then attempt doing my makeup. I say attempt as makeup, early mornings and I just don’t usually mix (seriously it’s a disaster waiting to happen). To my surprise it turns out pretty good (which is a miracle in my eyes). But I make the stupid mistake of putting on bright red lipstick (because it matches my top), and immediately regret it, as I really want to eat that yummy chocolate brioche in my bag. So the challenge for today was to eat my brioche and not screw up my lipstick. Piece of cake, or so I thought! So I walk down the street breaking off pieces of chocolaty bread, while chewing on it like a goat (attractive). I really should just accept red lipstick is for films and celebrities, because in the space of an hour I’d managed to make myself a paranoid wreck, checking every mirror in a 10ft radius every second to make sure my lipstick hadn't smudged. By the time I had made it to work my lipstick looked more like a dodgy pink, there was chocolate stuck in my teeth and crumbs all down my top. Ladies please just save yourselves the drama and go for a pale pink instead, oh and while you are at it don't eat when walking to work either (Messy)! Actually just stay away from bread all together!!

Chatty Yaz (Real Talk)

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