Obviously I'm jealous that I haven't even squeezed out a new freckle. The weather also makes everyone half naked, which is fine if you're as sweet as cherry pie but the rest of you scarcely prepared apes need to buff, scrub, shave, wax, pluck, lather, moisturise and polish yourselves up if you're going to strip off. Don't get me wrong, I know nobody is perfect. I have hobbit feet. Fat arms. I'm very prone to acne. I'm addicted to butter cream icing. But I present myself in a way that isn't horrendous to look at. I scrub my feet and paint my nails. I keep my arms covered if I can. I use spot targeting facewash at least once a day and I wash my make up brushes regularly. I stay away from bakeries.
I have seen too many atrocities this season. Feet that need a hot soak, a pumice stone, moisturiser and a pedicure. People who are more addicted to food than I am, flashing their corned beef legs and triple fold paunch as if they were Gisele. Those boob tubes that large breasted women think look good. Sweaty, hairy and sunburnt topless men and not the good kind, I mean scary ones. It makes me so sad. I know, don't judge lest ye be judged. But come on, spare us a little revulsion at least.
I mean this morning on my commute I was minding my own business (secretly checking you all out and sizing you all up), when one of my neighbours crossed her legs in her pencil skirt and peep toe kitten heels. Who can blame her, uncomfortable body language on public transport, all hot and bothered and awkward. Understandably wearing peep toes, it was sunny out and boiling squashed in like we were. But then I saw her feet. Oh deary, deary me! Now, I'm not a girly girl. I didn't own, or infact ever use hair straighteners until I was 20 years old, I used to paint my nails as a kid, but the countryside didn't seem like much to glam up for and the people I cared about said I looked prettier without make up. It's only recently that I have struck up an interest in beauty and it's more of a hobby than necessity. I'm still pretty clueless. So imagine how unkempt her talons must have been for little me to recoil in horror. This lady didn't need a pedicure, she needed extensive feet therapy rehab! I felt so bad for this young lady. How stressful and tortured must her life be for her to overlook this? I wanted to ask her if I could take anything off her hands, give her some free time just to restore her birthright - a pampering session.
But I didn't. Because that's rude.
For now people of Britain - NO! The world! I beg of you, spare a thought for those of us who have to live with you. I'll try to do the same.
Gisele Bündchen - Versace SS12 campaign.