I live, a lonely life. I live alone in what feels to me, a cold hell. Concrete walls and tiled floors throughout. I imagine a sign on my door "El Unit De Mexican", for the colour scheme is something out of a badly themed restaurant. Yellow walls, not just yellow, canary, through my living room and kitchen, my bedroom, blue, crayola crayon blue.
The bathroom, with its pink tiles, pink sink (falling off the wall mind you), pink bath and pink pot, is nothing to the tiles. The tiles. Those tiles. I can imagine whoever picked them out was on the forefront of design at the time. The tiles. Orange. Terracotta. In the lounge room, in the kitchen and yes, in the bedroom. They remind me of the estates out west. Every rendered house a slightly different shade or orange. Tangerine, Amber, Gamboge, Princeton Orange and Tangelo. But all claiming to be this elusive terracotta. I don't even understand what is attractive about an orange house. Call it what you like, it's orange.
I once read an article about the humour of the names of colours. When I was in school we were taught white, not Eggshell, not Magnolia or Seashell or Polar White, and certainly not "Vintage lace". Such an unspecific name for a shade. What if, that vintage lace had been dyed black for a funeral gown, what them? Vintage lace is not a colour. 'Tis a noun closely proceeded by an adjective.
...
I am, short. 5f 3. But apparently all short woman say that. It's like a universal code that all short woman are five foot three inches. Which would make 5f 3" a synonym for "short" rather than a measurement. I am the same height that I was in grade 6. Once one of the tall girls, put in the back with the boys for school pictures.
I dye my hair black, always. I was blonde as a child, like a lot of women (probably all the 5f 3" ones) I couldn't tell you what my natural hair colour is now.
Piercings, I have me a few. Four in each lobe, a conch piercing, an industrial, angles and both my nipples pierced. This equates to 15 holes as an industrial has two. And although I look like I've gone happy with an Office Works hole punch, I still feel so regular. So...factory settings.
Weight, I have a bit of that too. Nothing I'd call a problem. But in all honesty. I am glad for it. If I hadn't been overweight my whole life, I would have went to bed with my first boyfriend when I was 12. I bless every extra kilo for getting me through high school without falling pregnant, taking risks with boys or turning into a bitter, mean girl.
Keep reading for further instalments of The Things I Think To Say.
I once read an article about the humour of the names of colours. When I was in school we were taught white, not Eggshell, not Magnolia or Seashell or Polar White, and certainly not "Vintage lace". Such an unspecific name for a shade. What if, that vintage lace had been dyed black for a funeral gown, what them? Vintage lace is not a colour. 'Tis a noun closely proceeded by an adjective.
...
I am, short. 5f 3. But apparently all short woman say that. It's like a universal code that all short woman are five foot three inches. Which would make 5f 3" a synonym for "short" rather than a measurement. I am the same height that I was in grade 6. Once one of the tall girls, put in the back with the boys for school pictures.
I dye my hair black, always. I was blonde as a child, like a lot of women (probably all the 5f 3" ones) I couldn't tell you what my natural hair colour is now.
Piercings, I have me a few. Four in each lobe, a conch piercing, an industrial, angles and both my nipples pierced. This equates to 15 holes as an industrial has two. And although I look like I've gone happy with an Office Works hole punch, I still feel so regular. So...factory settings.
Weight, I have a bit of that too. Nothing I'd call a problem. But in all honesty. I am glad for it. If I hadn't been overweight my whole life, I would have went to bed with my first boyfriend when I was 12. I bless every extra kilo for getting me through high school without falling pregnant, taking risks with boys or turning into a bitter, mean girl.
Keep reading for further instalments of The Things I Think To Say.
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