Self loathing

I hate shopping for clothes. I hate it when I'm thin. I hate it even more when I'm a lard arse. It's something I can usually ignore but having to try and buy the semblance of a work wardrobe this week has combined shopping with repeatedly looking at myself in a mirror. Yuk.

I do, however, always rather like the window display in All Saints, a shop I've never been into but there you go.

And from the absence of talk about work you can surmise it's all going well. No hangover this morning either. Bonus!

Vx