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THE SINGLE BED: Terrible Twos

second datesThis weekend I discovered the only thing scarier than a first date; a second date. After all, first time around I had nothing to lose. This time I do; the first man to seem interested in me since I started using wrinkle correction cream…I don’t think I am using enough.

As well as applying wrinkle cream (just in case any of the suckers came through during dinner,) I applied so much make up that I wondered whether or not I had been Tangoed. I actually think my makeup was  less subtle that having a crate of fizzy drinks sprayed on your person.

I had also tried to even up the eyebrow that I over zealously plucked the week before…I am now the proud owner of an eyebrow pencil, and I find it a cruel twist of fate that it has finally started to warm up enough in London not to need to leave the house in a hat.

For one of only a handful of times in over thirty years, I decided to blow dry my hair…there is little point normally when you are walking around with a tribute to Suzi Quatro on your head.  The blow drying experience left me wondering how is it, that seemingly intelligent women agree to blow hot air (bloody hot) on their heads. I cannot imagine a man doing it. Please note I am not a feminist – I am too lazy.

As if sun burning my head wasn’t bad enough, I decided that it would be a brilliant idea if I wore a new pair of heels for the occasion. As I approached my date I assumed that I looked a little bit like Frankenstein’s monster: my skin wasn’t quite the right colour, I was walking with my arms out to help me balance on my heels, and I smelt distinctly of burnt hair.  And yet for someone reason my date found me enchanting. Maybe I had found someone who didn’t care that I was a throw back from a 19th century horror novel?

After shuffling the menu in his hand for several minutes, my date asked if I would please read the menu for him. He confessed that he had run out of contact lenses at home, and didn’t want to wear his glasses in front of me. I told him he was silly to worry so much about his appearance!

Maybe this is the beauty secret we girls have been seeking – blindness.

 

Sally Beerworth



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