A bit louder and we could dance to it…

November 20, 2007

So I’m in the bank getting a bank draft to send to my surgery clinic, waiting patiently while the bank clerk writes it out for me, when I see she notices it is made out to a cosmetic surgery clinic. “Oooohhhhh!” she says, as if she just discovered her married friend ran away with the local priest. “Are you getting something done?” I stare at her. “ARE YOU GETTING SOMETHING DONE?” Everyone in the bank turns to look at me (it feels like). I mutter something that sounds like a yes and before she asks me what exactly I’m getting done, I take out my iPod and deliberately put the earphones in my ears. As in, stop being so nosy, bitch. Seriously, why do people think they can comment on other people’s private lives?
(I realise I am detailing my private life on this blog but I wouldn’t shout it out to the crowd in my local bank).
I could see her eyeing me up and down trying to figure out what I’m getting done.
It’s not that hard to figure out, in fairness.

Three days to go…I’m off out now to buy sports bras for after the op.

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