Have you ever watched What Not To Wear? Honestly, I freaking love this show. It's entertaining, and honestly, one of the most educational shows on television. There was a marathon of it on today, which I missed because of work, obviously, but I usually catch the late night repeats on Friday night, which I think is the best way to start a weekend. They used to do more men, but I haven't seen that in a while. Even with the men, I always learned something. It's occurred to me that even though I thoroughly dislike the way I look, in the way that probably too many women do, it's the stuff I've learned from this program that has given me the skill to dress myself so that I feel confident enough to get out of bed in the morning, armed to face the world. It's ten to one in the morning, and I'm watching it and catching up on internetal diversions at commercials, which is why I'm mentioning it now. I don't ACTUALLY think that you might have watched it. But I also had an espresso or three at my uncle's house around 9.30, and so I'm not going to be sleeping for a while. Also, I coloured my hair this morning, and am having a great hair day, which I don't want to waste by sleeping on it. Also, fricking espresso. Two hours earlier, and it wouldn't have been a problem. 9.30? And I suddenly realize that my body is 33 years old, and things change when you're 33 years old, in a way that you never expected, like with gravity, and rogue whites, and the Louis Vuittons that seem to have taken possession of my under eye real estate. And the caffeine thing. Suddenly, caffeine is living up to it's own reputation. Also, nostalgia. Nostalgia attacks at the strangest times, like during songs by Warrant and Scorpion, except it's not actually so strange as it is embarrassing because, honestly, I'm the one that downloaded I Saw Red and Winds of Change in the first place. And now I'm thinking of the whistled opening to Winds of freaking Change, and remembering listening to it in Grade 12? 13? Ontario had Grade 13 back then. It was possibly during exam time, and I know that it was sunny and I know that I sat there, miserable because the guy - whoever he was - I was loving, was RIGHT THERE, and so close, and I couldn't touch him or talk to him because fortheloveofGodwhatwasthepointIhadnochance which is, ugh, so tiresome now, when I think about it. And then, a few years later, I got an attack of confidence - well, bravado, more like - and kind of took care of all the space between me and whomever I was carrying a torch for by myself. Why wait to be wooed? I'm a woman of the nineties! I'm a woman of the new millennium! I am confident and vaguely attractive, and I am both kinds of girls. I'll do the wooing! I'll woo like nobody's business! And now? Now? Now, I'll be honest, I could do with a little wooing. But then, I could also do with a little more whistled openings and songs I can sing along with because I can make out the lyrics. Mind you, that's not so much an age thing, as a deaf thing. Can't forget the deaf thing. Oh, look at that. It's suddenly ten to two instead of ten to one, and I'm still wide awake and thank GOD for What Not To Wear marathons. Oh Jesus. The broad they're doing next could really use some help from Stacy and Clinton. She's stunning, but she's buried under some horrific hair and Sofia Petrillo's wardrobe. I wonder if she's being wooed. Jesus Mary and Joseph. It's been five hours. How much power can be poured into a freaking demitasse?
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