Shambles

In response to Josie’s latest Writing Workshop at Sleep is for the Weak, ‘write an honest description of what you look like right now’.  I’ll warn you, it ain’t pretty:

(I’ve underlined where the emphasis is as I’m quite bad at poetry and tend to produce pieces only I can get a rhythm out of..!)

Shambles

Delicacy, poise and grace are traits I tend to lack,
And my brown and straw-like barnet hangs dishevelled down my back.
I haven’t washed since Friday’s bath and though I claim to wear them well
My jogging bottoms have developed quite a musty ‘worn thrice’ smell.

The baggy ‘bedtime’ jumper, on for far too many days,
Is peppered liberally with my darling daughter’s mealtime strays.
Upon my feet my once-cool trainers are now shoddy, scruffy wrecks,
All caked in mud from playing football with my son, the budding Becks.

I’ll never be a Posh, I’ll never clip on shining heels.
My waist won’t fit in clothes like those; I rather like my meals.
But all the skinny jeans in TK Max won’t bring me any joy,
This beaming smile beneath my eyes is for my girl and for my boy.

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Bra Sizes

Listening to Woman’s Hour on BBC Radio 4, with a discussion on bra sizes imminent.  I’m intrigued as I would LOVE to wear a correctly-fitted bra, however having dilligently measured myself on several occasions I’ve firmly established that my bra size – an anomaly brought about by a small frame and a passion for swimming continued from childhood – is 36-AAA.  It is simply impossible to find a bra that size and so I spend my life either pinched uncomfortably at the chest, or with my small breasts flapping about in over-sized cups. 

Lovely.