I understand the desire to wear fashion tights. I mean... you saw what happened earlier in the week with those polka dot Sportsgirl tights, right?? The ones that I bought in spite of knowing that they would be fattist and not actually go over my ass. I understand wanting to look hip and fashionable and in tune with clothes that are cute and make you look awesome. I get it. Really, I do. Even though I don't actually ever look hip or fashionable. Anyway.

Mother fucker. I had reconciled myself to the idea that, when applied with a touch more delicate than a moonlit butterfly's gossamer wing, sheer tights may last somewhere between 1 and 2 wears. And you know, fine, sheer tights cost more per outing than any other item of clothing known to woman. That's just fine. But twice, twice lately I have laddered a brand new pair of sheers whilst putting them on. And they were the expensive Voodoo ones, not even the shitty grandma coloured ones from Coles. What The Fuck.

I have something stuck in my craw, and it's probably a laddered shred of nylon in 'midnight'...

Sportsgirl tights, which are allegedy one size, are apparently only 'one size' if that size is less than 10 and under 5 feet tall. Even a fucking midget would be unable to wear stockings from Sportsgirl because their legs would be too fat. And they don't have reinforced toes, so assuming you haven't already poked a hole through the waistband trying to yank them back up your ass cheeks throughout the day, they are guaranteed to ladder before lunchtime. 

Is this some kind of conspiracy? Are they engineered to fail at a certain point, like the planned obsolescence of an 18 month old iPhone?? And it's discrimination against people with fat thighs.

Boycott!!!

A couple of weeks ago, my lovely friend Nicky stayed for a few days. Luckily the bunnies were on their best behaviour and didn't eat or wee on anything belonging to Nicky. I'm still sort of mortified that my other lovely friend Lauren, who lives 2 hours away,  prefers to drive home rather than sleep on the couch because of one time that the girls kept her awake. All night..

Lauren, I swear to you, they sleep outside now!


Anyway, Nicky convinced me that this year we should go in some kind of charity bike ride. I'm not sure why exactly, bit I got a bit caught up in the moment and parts of the conversation are a bit hazy.

Even though I don't own a bicycle, and the last time I rode one with any regularity was in 2008 in a country that is almost entirely flat, she convinced me that we should ride from Sydney to Wollongong. 90 kilometres. On bicycles. For fuck's sake.

I think somewhere in there I found myself agreeing to the City-to-Surf again as well. 

Faced with the alarming prospect of a 90km bike ride, fast approaching, and my lack of an essential piece of equipment, I did what any self-respecting internet-materialist would do, and started researching bicycles. It took me a while to realise that people who ask, "what kind are you thinking of," don't actually mean, "so, are you going to get a wicker basket? and do you prefer that one because the bit that goes around the gear thing is purple, or is cream just a more classic choice?" No, people who ask such questions have Opinions about gear shanks, and frame weight, and whether hybrids really are the best of both worlds or just a poor smattering of shitty wheels mixed with sub-par handlebar position. I had so much to learn.

I'm going to be honest with you. I'll admit that I looked at the road bikes, and I almost convinced myself that it was a road bike that I needed, because, you know, I was going to be doing 15km training rides daily and wearing those padded pants.  But in the end my vanity got the better of me, I accepted that I will not be riding 15km daily, and I just couldn't bring myself to buy something so butt ugly. Also, I don't think you can even put a basket on a road bike.

Enter Betsey. Isn't she beautiful? She is a Trek Allant, and Lance Armstrong rides Trek, so I'm sure she won't have that much trouble doing 90 km at a stately pace.





And just in case you're wondering, cream is a more classic choice.

Dear Self,

You really, for the love of god, need to stop buying nail polish. Even though OPI is really more like.. an investment, especially now that you've found an Australian ebay seller that sells it for something remotely similar to the American/Hong Kong/Singapore price.

And also, you need to get rid of that Zoya one that makes it look like you have hepatitis. It doesn't matter that it's a fancy brand, it just needs to go. Anyone? Free to good home of someone with different skin tone.
And Self, don't get caught thinking that, in the long run, it works out cheaper this way because you save money on manicures. Because you still get manicures. And pedicures.

False. Economy.

Also, don't even start considering nail art. Even if if would just be one whimsical bunny. It doesn't matter that they are stupidly cute. It is a slippery, slidey slope.

Ridiculously adorable bunny nail, and other amazing arts.

It starts with one painted bunny nail....

Dog as bunny, Pomeranian as egg.

...and just goes down hill from there.




 __

Look, I’ll preface this by saying, yes, I know these are very much first world problems, but I donate money to the RSPCA! No one is perfect, and so I’ll take a Kate Spade handbag, some Calvin Klein pumps, and a pair of Marc Jacobs sunglasses, and die shallow.

Material things, such as the above, are attainable; for the most part I’m held back only by my bank balance. But I’ve hit a stumbling block. Always, there’s an exception.

The leopard print, pony-skin ballet flat has, over the last 12 months (since before they were fashionable), become my Moby Dick. My white whale. I want these fucking shoes.

Of course, now that they fashionable, options abound. But they are just all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.



I found the perfect pair on eBay last year. Perfect, but they didn’t fit. Even after I tried wearing them with two pairs of socks, stuffed them with wet newspaper, and took them to the nice shoe man to get stretched. It just wasn’t going to happen (canoe feet with…shudder…bunions). At least I got a good price when I re-sold them, sigh.

Then I found the perfect pair, again. PERFECT.  Except that I cannot have them. Seriously, endless.com, don’t mess with my head by only allowing some Calvins international shipping. It’s just mean. 

Calvin Klein "Parkley" Sigh.

I have scoured endless, shoebox, wanted, styletread, the iconic (in spite of its stupid name, I caved, only to find that they don’t stock any brands that I can’t already find elsewhere), wittner, nine west etc. I cannot find a pair comparable to the Calvins. Either they’re just not quite right, or they cost 300 dollars (I’m not that desperate, yet). And I cannot find anywhere that has the Calvins in my size (canoe feet!!) that will ship to Australia.



I know on a rational level that, at this stage, I need to let it go. I just need to let it go and move on. But, well.. I cannot.

I think I will go and donate some money to Unicef now.