Cheyne

Purpleberry is back at work.

Seeing as I'll be wearing the exact same outfit every weekday now that uniform rules have been established, I bought another skirt-slash-dress to switch around. It was 15 minutes before I was due at work and I was confronted with two sizes - S and XS. I chose the former.

The good news is I would have been more at home in the latter. The bad news is I now have to pull up the wretched thing every time it falls, which averages to about once every two minutes.

What I hate most about my body is that it's a perfect example of "small ≠ thin". When I'm shopping for clothes, chances are I'll always fit into the smallest size. However, nobody would say I'm skinny. Okay I lie, a number of people do, but these people are always, and I emphathise always more portly. So really, it isn't saying much.

Something else I noticed lately is the way that women have been looking at me. Being female I know what goes through their minds. Oh what a sizeable arse, I feel much better about myself. Damn, I wish I had her waist. Hmm, those ends look pretty split. There's no way those tits are real.

Right, so there isn't any mystery here, but it makes me uncomfortable, and it's been happening all day. God knows why. I checked three times and I am positive that I wasn't flashing a butt-cheek or walking around with a sanitary pad stuck to my thigh. Men are always looking and occasionally commenting but men are men so whatever. When women do it, however, I want to pry open their heads and pull out their thoughts. WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!? AT WHAT PART OF MY BODY WERE YOU WRINKLING YOUR NOSE?!? I'm terribly insecure.

Nothing noteworthy from today's shift, apart from me undertaking an unusually large amount of manual labour and a snotty old lady wearing horrible blue eye make-up. Jez, shut up.

I was standing at the dispensary computer behind the counter. I had one hand entering patient details into LOTS and the other flipping through a booklet of repeats. My eye were on the screen. Clearly I was very occupied.

From the corner of my eye I see a head hovering around the monitor. I look up to see an elderly woman made up like a clown glaring at me as if to say "I'm a customer. Serve me.".

"Yes?" I said, not rudely, but I don't suppose "yes" is an ideal greeting.

Completely disregarding the fact that I was quite obviously busy with something else, she said "I want Revlon complexion powder".

"Have you taken a look at our Revlon stand?" I asked.

"No." She replied, in slightly incredulous tones, as if searching for Revlon complexion powder on a Revlon stand was a ridiculous thing to do.

Earth to clown-queen. This is the dispensary. You come here for Valtrex and Mersyndol. The Revlon stand is two metres on your right. You look like you're seventy-years-old. I think you are well over the age of being able to handle taking a browse on your own.

Dinner was at Sapore in the Italian Forum with Jenny, Mylinh, Emily, Zaza and Danielle. I ordered the bruchetta and Cozze with a Strawberry Colada. The portions were astronomical and I left more than half on the plate.

It sure is hot tonight. I would love to take a cold shower with someone.