Alright!  Four fucking hours of shopping malls later, I have comfy yet handsome shoes, two knee-length black Cocktail dresses (I know, I was WTF, too, but it’s on the list. And such dresses may look great on twenty year old models, but on a forty year old dumpling, their classiness is a wee lost. I really gotsta lose the weight I gained in the past few years. I miss being able to shop and not keep my eyes closed while people assured me I look… not as bad as they thought.) But my My was with me and she’s a freaking shopping trooper, telling me about which density socks to buy, which fabric clothes for which season, what movement to insist on for which design… Without her, this would be a nightmare. It’s not easy shopping for elegance for a small chubby woman. I’m a photo nerd. I have small ugly shoes you can climb Everest in and clothes that would sustain me in a nuclear holocaust. My car is tiny and old and rattles. My hair looks like it’s from a dead animal. It literally takes HOURS to make me look presentable. Yes, I carry around a backpack with several thousands of euros of photography equipment, but nobody would ever mug me, because I look like a hobo. If anyone ever steals my wallet, they usually put it back with twenty bucks inserted and an apology note.

             And now I own two black cocktail dresses and ladies’ shoes. And a hair curler. Daaamn.

PS.

I had no idea there are so many rivers with so many ships on them. Look at this lot. Where the color code at?!