Hate being me

So not only did I spend the best part of the afternoon looking through my wardrobe for something to wear that wouldnt have people turning away in disgust at the sight of me, I have just spent roughly two hours online trying to find something to wear to Alison's hen night.

I hate my body, I hate my (non) sense of style, I hate my wonky eyes, I hate my height, I hate my face, I hate my hair, I hate my profile, I hate my bingo wings, I hate my disgusting legs, I hate my nose, I hate my lips, I hate my mangled old feet, I hate looking like a cabbage patch doll (and that is an insult to cabbage patch dolls let me tell you), I hate every millimetre of myself. Am thinking tomorrow I'll go up town at the crack of dawn then work my way back to Braehead, but whats the point?

If I cant even find a casual top to wear how am I going to find something to wear for a nice night out?

I would give anything to get out of this and I would give even more to get out of the wedding which tbh I dont reasonably think I can go to anyway.

You are probably thinking "why is she moaning about this, she should do something to rectify it". I am thinking the same thing.

But I dont know where to start. The daft DVD I bought sure as hell isnt going to work miracles. I dont think it would make any difference if I did it morning noon and night for 3 years never mind 3 weeks.

I guess I could buy something and try and slim into it but we all know what the outcome of that would be. Another garment that lies in my wardrobe for years with the tags still on.

And to make matters worse, the sales are on just now.

I hate the sales.

I hate the racks that are loaded up with crap that you never ever seen out on the shop floor during non-sale time. I hate the obnoxious people who dont let you look at anything and take up a whole section just so they can get a fiver off some crappy nylon top that they will probably never wear anyway. I hate that I can never ever find anything, reduced or not during the sales.

So there you have it, I absolutely detest myself and everything about me. If I could afford a nose job, a boob job, an eye lift, a facial peel, a fake tan every fortnight, a pedicure, a manicure, a personal shopper and a new wardrobe every month I would maybe be happier.

But then again, maybe I wouldnt. I will never know!

Right am away to fester in my own self pity. Saturday night eh!