Glamour

I really, REALLY don't want to look at this week's GLAMOUR mag as I check out at Sainsbury's with my Walkers sweet chili crisps and proper coffee... a picture of preggers Myleene Class with no clothes on and no dimples at all, like it's bad enough that I have to look at the floor hurrying by the extended-family-sized chocolate bar aisle to buy loads of fruit that I'll struggle to eat before it rots in the bowl, that's right after I've just spent half an hour trying to decide which fake tan stuff to buy because I've tried loads and they all go orange on my knees and ankles anyway, and I know everyone loves Myleene (sorry) but I just confess publicly now I find her too perfect for my understanding and therefore don't want her smiling smugly at me as I exit the supermarket.

Why are they called 'super' anyway? They're just massive and confusing and make you think you need loads of things that you actually don't.

I'm really not in a bad mood today, actually quite happy because of friends like this:


...who I get to share my birthday with tomorrow! It's due to tip down with rain, which is a problem as we'll be on a boat for the evening, but hey, with mates like this the sun is always shining...

In fact, why couldn't Glamour get real and put this on their front cover? I suppose the point is that it's called 'Glamour' and not 'Beauty', so if it's beauty I'm after I shouldn't be getting the two confused in the first place. Don't ya think?


{Today's soundtrack: Stevie Wonder - Greatest Hits vol2}