Indeed twonewcats
I see myself as willowy, young and ravishing titian haired beauty without a care in the world.
No matter how I carry myself down the street, I will always look like a dumpy, battered, grey haired auld woman who has too much responsibilities and can’t find their peace.
I don’t skip gaily down the street with my hair swinging as more often that not, I’m laden with shopping. Laden.
The minute I open my mouth, the weariness and my life experiences are there for all to hear.
They are always there.
I could go mad with the clairol, lose 5 stone, buy a handbag that is smaller than my purse and have my flapping jowls cut and tied round the back of my neck in a bow. Likewise with my norks. And off I could skip. Living my Natascha life. And hoping that a millionaire will sweep me off my feet and love my shell. And eventually me.
The thing is, the experiences of my life are still inside and will be heard whenever I comment on anything.
I wish anyone in the position who have changed their outward appearances the happy life they seek.
What I am clumsily trying to say is that it generally isn’t that simple.
And I don’t expect anyone to buy into what I say I am when I keep showing them who I am.