Dear Self,
Could you please suggest some survival
techniques to my past, less enlightened self, for those moments when
you wish your grandmothers lovely broach (which is carefully pinned
to your favourite- “awesome cardi”) is a MI6 style grenade, and
you could just explode yourself into a parallel universe. A lovely,
happier universe where you are more successful and you were bought up
to think before you speak, rather than endure the uncomfortable
silence which ensues after you commit a terrible, terrible faux pas
and there appear to be more awkward turtles than at the “Convention
for turtles with Social Disorders”.
Recently a “friend” of mine (obvi,
it's me) overstepped that delightful threshold of human
decorum, left polite converse in the lavvy and made a titting tit of
herself...or himself...since it wasn't me (it was). There was silence
and then a glorious symphony of unsympathetic crickets. Then came the
fall out of judgemental “wows”, accompanied by a chorus of
horrified stares.
An already awkward situation went from
bad to worse when one of my superiors proceeded to make a rather
emotional speech farewelling a colleague, there were tears involved.
Fortunately this temporarily distracted my peers, which would have been the perfect opportunity to flee leaving people wondering whether or not they'd imagined the whole thing, but unfortunately I was basically locked in the centre of the group. It was such a
heightened, emotional speech in such contrast to my afore
mentioned faux pas, which only served to make me look even more
insensitive, so people put back on their judgement pants and started
doing a little judgement barn dance around me, while I stared blankly
into space with the thousand mile stare of a serial killer who
listens to Bon Jovi.
If only I had an overactive sympathetic
nervous system! One that was capable of blushing like a hot cartoon
rabbit, or someone with a mild to intermediate level of rosacea. At
least then people would think I had a conscience!! Oh the luck of
those bloody blushers! The moment their rosy cheeks light up people
instantly feel sorry for them. It just makes me want to punch them.
“Ooooh look at that poor blusher, how
rosy and beautiful their cheeks are! They could be in an ad for the
kilts and other Scottish things. They obviously feel remorseful for
their embarrassing behaviour...OBVIOUSLY!.”
Instead I was struck dumb, standing
there in stony silence, people gawking, mouths agape, as if I'd just
shouted at a funeral “I've committed carnal sins with a monkey and
that monkey was your mother!”
Anyway....present self, please advise
past self what I should have done in such a situation. I feel like an island, alone with my
shame. I have resorted to a steady diet of croissants and wont stop
until this veil of embarrassment is lifted. That and croissants are
especially delicious. Especially every variety.
Sincerely,
Lacksadaisy.
P.S
Could you also tell past self not to
drink the cheap champagne. X
Dear Self,
I'll think about it and get back to
you.
L x
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