So It was a hot day and I wanted to be like everyone else and wear some cutsie shorts(Why not eh?). I understand I have big legs so it doesn't look the greatest, but today who really cares? I cut up a baggy pair of trousers and folded them up at ends. (Problem number one in the summer, I end up cutting up all my jeans and having nothing left to wear in the winter!) Walking down the street wearing my new lovely shorts, I suddenly felt them riding up my bum. I discretely rugged them down and thought nothing of it (but that wasn't the end of it!). My bum was hungry and wasn't letting go of this one. I began to tug hard at my shorts and was beginning to get some very strange looks (you can imagine why). I pulled again at my shorts and my nails went straight through the material, so now I had a hole right in the bum area (great that's all I needed). I guess that teaches me for having long sharp nails! I had no time to go home, so there was nothing else for it. I ducked and dived behind a garden wall, whipped off my short and put on the spare pair of leggings in my bag (that's right I take a spare part of leggings with me now!) Half way through stripping off I noticed a little old lady looking through her window directly at me, with a smirk on her face (mortified). I straightened myself up and strutted off down the road (I'm sure I'm not the first lady shes seen stripping off in broad daylight, right?). I looked down at my leggings proud of my brilliance. Looking closer at them I noticed it was my crappy Primark leggings, and you could pretty much see my underwear through them anyway (sod it). Today I give up! Will there ever be a day that goes right for me?
Chatty Yaz (Mortified Memories)
xx
Showing posts with label Disaster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Disaster. Show all posts
Friday, 4 July 2014
Thursday, 3 July 2014
Damn Greggs & Their Perfect Location!
So I’m guessing you already get the gist of today’s post. Every
day I walk out of the station and there it is (Greggs). It is placed so eloquently
outside the bus station, how can I say no? But today I have started my diet (I
know I say that every day, but today I really have), so I wasn’t about to let
Greggs’ delicious sweet bakery ruin it for me! I got off the bus and exited the
bus station, taking long brisk strides with my strong willed mind pushing forwards.
My legs of course began to disobey my direct order and started walking towards
the bakery (No, No, No). I tried to take control of my legs with my focused
mind, but it was as if I were possessed (I was powerless). There was no
stopping them, as much as I tried to walk past Greggs, my legs had taken a detour
and I was now planted in the bakery and being asked what I wanted. I replied ‘the
usual please’ (Yes the f***ing usual!). The lady knew exactly what I was
talking about (shock horror) and said that they had almost run out of the ice doughnuts
but she had saved one for me as she knew I would be in to get one. She then put
it in a bag and made my latte (Yes that’s right, even the Greggs workers know I
have no will power!). I am such a regular I may as well start getting discount
vouchers. I felt like a golden customer! (This was not good). But then again
they should commend my loyalty! I left the bakery with half a doughnut sticking
out of my mouth, as a lady in jogging gear with toned arms and a perked bum
walked past looking at me in disgust. (How dare she look at me like that, as whose
fault is this really? Was it me the innocent bystander who happened to get drawn
in to their excellent location and yummy cakes? Or was it Greggs and their
knowing of my lack of willpower and ridiculous sweet tooth? (Exactly) There is
no moral to this story; I just wanted to let you know I still haven’t started
this stupid diet!
Chatty Yaz (Women’s Worries)
Xx
Saturday, 28 June 2014
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)
xx
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)
xx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)