07 Fancy

Playing dress up is fun, he said. Fun my shinny feathered butt.

I hated dressing up. Put me in a pair of leggings, comfy socks and an old comfy sweater and I was all set. No need for make up, high heel shoes, and pretentious jewellery.

But, nooo, mister wanted fancy. Oh he would get fancy, maybe not the type he wanted, but hey, beggars couldn’t be chooser. He would get what I could provide. He should have asked someone more sophisticated than me.

So, Kardashian décolleté, Sookie pants, only way is Essex make up and I would sashay out of here on drag queen heels, that would make even Ru Paul proud.

Attention, fifth avenue fancy dress party, here I come.