|Ok, so I wasn't feeling too attractive, but that didn't mean I looked terrible. I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window as I hurried passed. Actually it did mean I looked terrible. My hair was predictably falling out and lopsided (why I spend hours battling to put it up each morning when it always finds a way to escape, no matter how tight I do it, how much spray and gel and wax I use by 11.00am it is always a disaster area and by 12.00am I have always caved in, abandoned the up-do and let it have it's own way) my face was red and shiny from rushing and as far as my outfit goes... well, that's the last time I trust the judgement of a peroxide blonde shop assistant who snapped her chewing gum and had a disproportionate number of rhinestones attached to various aspects of her clothes and her body,
And my new shoes were killing me; once again my theory that the more expensive the shoes the more comfortable they are was ringing true and the imitation Louboutin's from New Look (they still have a red sole, but not quite the right shade) were pinching and producing new blisters. I did a mental sigh,if only the overdrafts manager of my bank would accept this theory as scientific fact, I would be in shoe heaven rather then blister infested foot hell. The overdrafts manager looked like the kind of person that thought the stillettos were a type of fancy pasta and that Christian Louboutin was some foreign politician. The kind of person, of slightly dubious personal hygiene who buys new shoes because they need them, not because they have fallen in love with the patent leather, red soled work of art in the shop window and have been pressing their nose up against that shoe window for so long that the glass now has a slight indentation.
At least the, foot punishing shoes looked like Louboutins. Almost. If you squint a little and tilt your head to the left. Well they were £20 rather then £420 and who really cares?
Me... I care and so does the woman I was going to meet.
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