Living for Disco

I dyed my hair dark again a couple of days ago. Actually, it’s black, and has the effect of making me look pale and interesting, and so I have started to wear lipstick and a bit of fluffy pink powder on my cheeks to make me look less ‘living dead girl’.

So, this morning, I left my front gate, a little late, after having rinsed off the tasty, yet unflattering bits of rice pudding that had splattered onto my skirt from breakfast. Still, I felt shiny and new, and thoroughly hydrated – something that doesn’t happen often at this particularly sweaty time of year.

“Hello my dear” I heard David, the security guard next door say, as he habitually does, through the bougainvillea. Recently, he has taken to telling me how much my hair looks ‘not good’, so I thought ‘at least now my hair is dark, he can’t tell me how rubbish I look, and I won’t have to run inside for a balaclava/paper bag/shot of hard liquor’. And then…

“You slept well, yes?”

“Yes, thanks! I did, as a matter of fact.” I stopped short of skipping and saying ‘tra la la laaa’, but only because it was too hot.

“Yes, you do not look so terribly tired like you do every day.”

My GOD! It’s too hot for balaclavas. I am going to have to start bringing the gin into work.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 23rd, 2006 at 3:02 pm and is filed under Miscellanea. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.