I am a white failure. Put a white garment of any decription within a three foot radius of me and I will spill, spray, smear or just mysteriously blemish the damn thing inside an hour.
Who are these people who can swan about in white-on-white ensembles bestowing munificent smiles upon us lesser mortals? I strongly suspect they've had every pore sealed with hairspray and eaten nothing but naked white rice since they got dressed.
Even then, their laser-beam-shooting eyes would have to be activated every four seconds to ward off spouses proffering sweet chili sauce (for the rice) grimy-pawed pets and small children in search of climbing frames. I'm just not highly evolved enough for this.
Since my trip to Bunnings and heavy investment in wardrobe infrastructure, I've noticed a definite trend in my garments. More worryingly, the pink top that made an appearance on Thursday provoked a flurry of comments along the lines of "Omigod it's pink! You? Pink? What???!"
Clearly my wardrobe can be divided into two components: black & I can't believe it's not black. (Oh, and denim. But that doesn't really count.)
Or, as I prefer to think of it, camoflage & today I'm prepared to make an effort. Dammit, theyre finally onto me. I think I might need to try harder.
23 hours ago
2 comments:
Haha. I can really relate.
Pink? I'm still trapped in the navy blue and black wardrobe. I consider anything else the height of adventurousness.
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