Girl, Chastised

Umm I kinda warned you about markup sites. You may consider yourself chastised 😉

A smile plays across my lips as I consider my next move. So it’s like that, eh? Well okay then. 

You just loved chastising me, didn’t you? 😉

That tension between us, it’s delicious, delightful, yet painful at times. It’s not that it’s not there so much as that it can’t be there in full, but we accept that and embrace it for what it is anyway; too good to let go of, too bad to make either of us truly happy – a situationship, a frielationship, jf you will. I try not to let bitterness and resentment consume me, they aren’t pretty on anyone and why be bitter about what I can’t have when I can be enjoying what I can have instead? I can have plenty of fun with Bill within the parameters that have been set for me.

And I plan to.

Firstly, Sir, I had no idea that Pelie was a mark-up site. Christmas was approaching, I saw a thing online and I wanted it. I’m sorry that I didn’t spare the time to research and avoid my misfortune, a lesson perhaps in buying things from Google!

But secondly, do note that my chastisement doesn’t happen nearly often enough 😉

Playing with fire? Me? But of course. 

I’m surrounded by women with devils inside 😂

You wanted, you got 😉

Red and I are alike and we’re not, we get along and then we don’t. We get along enough that we make short work of tormenting Bill and Matt whenever the opportunity presents itself, but we’re different enough that we don’t agree in every which way, and just sometimes, where we don’t agree, that can even cause a little bit of tension. Not enough that things get ugly between us, but definitely enough that we won’t be forming any major alliances anytime soon. Still, the friendship is strong enough that we’ll back one another against these sadists that we find ourselves in love with. It’s only right, if there’s a Brotherhood, then there’ll be some sort of Sisterhood, too.

It’s only right.

Bill mentions dinner in his post and it’s a thought that makes me smile. The last time we planned to catch up, the Premier Inn that I proposed Bill stayed at caught fire. It was a well-intended recommendation and definitely not one that was supposed to result in millions worth in damages, but it happened anyway and then the year after that, two lockdowns happened. Has it really been more than three years since we caught up? Apparently so! Money doesn’t help, for either of us.

My amaxophobia doesn’t make things easier, either. It actually makes me quiet emotional now to look at motorways on TV and think how cool I used to be on them. Not now, now they’re like a white-knuckle ride for me and there has never been a reason for that unexplainable, intense anxiety. It just… happened.

Lack of exposure is a strong possibility, though it’s hard to be exposed to motorways when you don’t go on daytrips anymore. We used to take the dogs to “Weston-Super-Mud” (Weston-Super-Mare) just for fun in my youth, but I don’t see the family that often now and so that doesn’t happen. I want that motorway breeziness back, to be as cool as I used to be, leaning my elbow on the frame of the window and feeling the wind in my hair and not a care in the world. It makes me want to do a motorway or two now, just to prove my damn mind wrong. 

Stubborn? Me? Perhaps a lil bit. Like a really teeny, tiny amount.

Alright, alright, so it’s quite a bit more than that. A lot more than that, in fact.

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I never did see my family for Christmas, though it was quite pleasant anyway. We saw my father-in-law, and nothing was perfect, but it was good regardless. We don’t have a dining table and so we had to eat from a camping table in front of the sofa, except that the table was too low and only seated two (despite apparently seating four) and my desk was too high when parked on the end, giving a sort of “queen of the castle” feel. It was what it was, and we didn’t have crackers because I have been too ill to make them, but it was nice anyway. Nobody broke a tooth, nobody got food poisoning. We survived. 

I asked for earrings for Christmas, and I got them. Beautiful earrings with tiny clear stones, a Celtic twist style and blue oval sapphires, my birthstone. I’m not sure about them at first because I don’t normally wear coloured stones, but surprise surprise, they suit. They look princessy on me, royal. I’m not sure that I’m worthy to wear such opulence. 

Okay, worthy perhaps, but still not royal.

Matt also got me three tops, though only one was really like I’d asked for and was unfortunately no good for me. A knitted navy jumper and a little on the large size, the side splits hang far too low and create front and rear flaps instead. 

“This feels somewhat inappropriate, unfortunate, though quite convenient for after the brussel sprouts” I joke, lifting up the rear “flap” above my arse to demonstrate. Poor Matt can barely breathe. 

The zip-up grey hoody is cosy, though wasn’t what I’d asked for. I wanted knitwear because it has a softer look for social and family gatherings, though Matt bought me a hoody anyway. It’s thinner, perfect for the autumn months. It will be perfect for slipping over my arms and cosying up by a bonfire or for a summer evening stargazing in the garden.

The maroon shirt is a ¾ sleeve v-neck, and again not normally something I’d go for because reds bring out my acne scars. Still it suits me, it matures me but without making me look old. I look mumsy, but like a sexy Mum – I’m after Nigella Lawson’s spot once again. It amuses me how Matt seems to know my wardrobe should-haves much more than I do.

“I’m still going to have some black and sparkle though” I say matter-of-factly. Black is my colour, and sparkle is life. 

“Not too much” Matt warns. I want to protest, though I acquiesce. My wardrobe needs a makeover, the garden needs a makeover. Everything needs a makeover next year, it seems.

“Just you try and stop me” I grin, his eyes flash with a warning and I swallow. I know immediately that I’ve just made my next mistake.