a wonderful sense of familiarity

So I finally wore my lesbian styley dungaree skirt today. Problem is, with the straps up I look stupid, and with the straps down the skirt gets too heavy and it slips down. Then my ass shows. So I pull it up. Then it's too short and, inevitably, my ass shows. Sadly, I'm sitting round the house all day and I don't realise this until I go out to Tesco and start actually, you know, walking in the damn thing. I get incredibly self-conscious about the fact that I look like a cross between a twelve year old and a whore (go figure that one out) and decide to go and sulk in the car.

On my way back across the carpark, I pass a group of men, early twenties, and their bizatches. I'm all ready to completely ignore them and go on my merry way, but Fat Bald Guy has other ideas.

I hear him chuckling first, notice him stop in the corner of my eye. Then I hear him wolf-whistle, and turn round to see him looking me up and down, shouting something complimentary, I think. In fairness to him, I am wearing a miniskirt in the pouring rain and I realise that between human beings, a certain amount of perving is just an instinctive reaction. But screw him, does he have to do it out loud?

So, in what is not my finest moment, I give him my instinctive reaction.

"FUCK YOU."

I can't remember the last time I swore out loud at a complete stranger. I'm sure I have, but usually when I'm in a car and they can't hear me. Luckily all I got was a chorus of 'ooohs' and a middle finger this time. Not a good habit to foster, methinks.

But why am I swearing at strangers in the first place? Why am I being so obsessively insecure about a skirt that I really liked a few days ago? Why indeed.

I woke up this morning and felt awful. I'm ill for a start, which is always fun, but that didn't bug me yesterday. I'm actually feeling healthier than yesterday.

So why am I so frustrated? Now that I'm not stressed, that I have time to relax and spend time with friends and to write and watch films to my heart's content.

Everything is fine. I say that with a wonderful sense of irony, because nothing is fine. Yet again, I'm crying and snapping for no reason. The world that was beautiful a week ago isn't so pretty anymore.

Brace yourself guys, we're back in The Bad Place. Long may it fucking continue.