Plz So Stop With The Guilt Trip

I’ve a bone to prick with you, dear readers, and prick it I will now, as follows.

After all I’ve done for you over the past year plus, keeping you a-nipple of the fascinating twists and turns of my life, generously sharing my deepest thoughts, and providing you with hot pics of my hot self, as well as seemingly endless reams of expert advice on Singapore, beauty, fashion, expat marital bliss, expat marital disaster, and a whole bunch of other stuff – after ALL THAT, this is how you repay me??!!!!!

Really?

Really??

Really??? (I heart this repeated “Really?!” thing. Dunno where it came from, but long may it prospiferate. Let’s all keep doing it. A lot. Forever.]

You repay my generosity by making me feel guilty every waking hour for not having enough time to blog hashtag sadface. Weeeeell, that’s very nice, isn’t it!!?! So than-Q awfully muchly indeed. I didn’t expect this of you, loyal readers.

It’s not that anyone has exactly pacifically said anything to this ends, but the fact remains that I do feel constantly wracked with guilt for not being able to write, given the lack of suitable support staff (yes, we don’t all have 24/6 help you know, over here in the West! Sheeesh!! So spoilt, you are…), and I can’t possibly blame myself for this feeling, so whose fault is it, if not yours..? I hope you feel proppa ashamed of yourselves.

OK. Now that I have gotten this off my perky chest, not wanting the misery to seep into my chi, I’ll tell you what I shall do for you: I shall take your profound apologies as a given from this moment henceforward, and babeses, I hereby forgive you : ) x

So we’re fine now! It’s all good.

That’s called mindful conflict resolution. If only there was more of it about in these turbulent times.

Now that I do in de facto have a spare moment to write, I will enlighten you about my “gig” (it was an educative lecture and rap really, but no one beyond us need know that) what I did this week. In case you’re not a Liker of my Awesome Facebook Page, you can watch it here. [Um, but why aren’t you a Liker?? Get likin’, honey! You might miss something and then you’ll feel super hard-done-by.]

As you will note, I successfully got my message across to the vast audience, and they were fooled into thinking that it was comedy, which means they actually listened and no doubt learned a great deal. Singapore Expaterati readers will be gratified to know that at least eleven people in London now realise how much cooler Singas is than here, and how awesome it is to be an expat. These London people are, I’m certain, v interested in the glamorous lives of the Expaterati, appearing to know not a whole helluva lot about the subject; and the poors among them know v little about glamorous lives, period full-stop. They know what they see of the Kardashies and the Kate and Willsies, but ffs, that’s not real! So I gave a wonderful gift to the sell-out audience that night, be them poors or not so poors. I gave them the gift of Real.

IMG_3896.PNG

Blurry but awesome

 

To everyone who has offered their support and appreciation re the “gig” on my Awesome Page (did I mention I have a Facebook page?), you are truesomely the wind beneath my thighs, and I thank you whole-thighedly, and I know you just thank me right back, to which I reply: You’re. So. Welcome. And in your cases, I totes retract the first part of this post. Just ignore it. Pretend it never even happened.

Best go because tomorrow morning I have my first 1:1 boxing training session, so need to be tip-top. I’ve found this incrediblé lady who looks like a killer in her online pics, but is really v sweet. I’ll tell you about her some time. Thought I should take up a fighting sport now that I’m back in Londres. Sh** goes down here, you know? Toto I’ve a feeling we’re not in Singas anymore…

One last thing, in case I’m not back for a while (and don’t make me feel guilty for that, ok lah?!). I’ve been chatting more to my neighbour whoms I told you about in the last post, and he’s def going to come with me to Nike Town Oxford Circus to sort out my camel toe issue. I’ve now discovered that his name is Montgomery Nugent. I looked him up on the dark web (I know how to access that because it’s how you get the best gigs) and OMG, this guy!! Nothing weird or nasty, but if you’re on the dark web too, check him out!

Advertisements

My Fascinating Camel Toe Resolution Process With Nike

As likers of my Facebook page will be acutely aware, this week I have had a problem of the camel toe variety. And first world problems are totes still problems, are they not, babeses?? The point is, is that they are.

So despite being an incrediblé busy single mum, struggling gracefully but mahusively to keep home and raise irritants sans helper, I needed to address this issue with Nike as a matter of urgency. It was interfering with my chi quite badly and I am certain that even corporate giants have hearts, and therefore thusly do not like to cause anyone pain unknowingly, particularly a customer as highly valued as myself.

The first stage of addressment of the camel toe problem re my recent purchase of workout leggings (as they’re American, they call them “training pants”, but that sounds like something to do with the toileting of toddlers, hence raises a degree of discomfort for me) was to fill out an online form. I explained that my issue simply could not be accommodated by an online form. What followed was an abso lovely exchange with a gentleman called Mo, and rather than paraphrase, I will post it in full below for your perusal. I know, dear readers, that you will find it riveting, but as always, there is no need to thank me.

[Unless you feel overcome with gratitude, in which case, go for it! I v much believe in freedom of expression – partic for those who want to say nice stuff. Otherwise, not so v much…]

 

 

Nike 1

 

So this was my mail:

Nike 2.1

Continued…

Nike 2.2

 

And these were the attachments:

 

CT issue

My dismay is all too evident

 

Lulu no CT

A Lulu tag on leggings I have since purchased at her Covent Garden shop. Wait… £118?! I didn’t see that! The things a Syrian refugee could do with £118!! Hashtag GUILT! (Just because it’s Canadian doesn’t make it right.)

 

And thusly came Mo’s sweet response:

Nike 3

 

Hencely the upshot is that I will be running to Oxford Circus at the earliest possible opportunity, labia-a’flailing, in order to present myself and the training pants for Inspection.

I shall keep you abreast of my progress, fear not.