Girlie Female Dog..

I’m really embarrassed to say this but for some reason something is compelling me to blog about it. I was actually drafting the blog post in my head before I went to bed that night.

Chronic.

Anyhoo, before I begin, let me just justify (and hopefully redeem) myself by telling you that I was at the peak of what I call my “most feminine time” which means I get in a tangle at the simplest of things.

It was a Tuesday night, and I was already feeling tired as it was nearing 11.30. It was also yoga night which means on top of everything else, my body has begun its weekly ache from stretching to the limits of my ligaments. But let me just tell you, almost nothing makes you sleep as soundly as a physically arduous 90-minute yoga session.

With the reluctance of an elephant, I decided to raid my wardrobe for something to wear for work the next day. Bearing in mind that I am NOT a planning person, the actual task of preparing tonight what I have to wear the next day is an achievement in itself.

After staring blankly at my wardrobe for a couple of minutes I decided on a top and a skirt. The top is such that I have to wear a vest underneath. Where I work even the possibility of a slight show of skin when you scratch your nose is unthinkable.

So I head to my top drawer in which I will supposedly find the said vest sitting pretty. Alas, it wasn’t there! A little fumble and looking in between the other folded tops to no avail. By this time I was getting a little annoyed. So I looked through the other drawer and still couldn’t find it. And by this time I was more than a little frustrated.

Sigh, after looking through the same places over and over (I was deadly sure it wouldn’t be anywhere else) I ended up messing up BOTH my drawers and pretty much was on the verge of throwing everything on the floor. I think at this point the only thing that stopped me was my dignity.

My boyfriend though, bless his heart, decided to help me out by sewing a button on a shirt so that I’d have that to wear. I think he was secretly worried that I’d end up ransacking his whole house for a vest.

So anyway, I look back now and cringe. Although it was pretty much hormone related, I have no idea what came over me. The frustrating thing about hormones is that even though you know you are in the thrones of a massive influx, the rational mind seem to have been completely taken over and has lost its ability to think for itself and do what it’s supposed to; think rationally. Instead, you regress into a 15-year old; an age where sulking is not so socially unacceptable.

I’m blogging this in the hopes that seeing it in my face in writing would beat me into embarrassed submission. I’ll know next month if that actually works.