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A Right Bitch

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Thank you for all your comments.

I am not depressed, although there is plenty out there that is profoundly depressing, quite apart from the situation in Syria and the obesity crisis and everything in between.  They go without saying.

The immediate in between, the in between that’s in my face this week, and has been for many a moon but is becoming more urgent by the day, is every other woman I know being left by their husbands for a younger cunt, and my still being a plankton a million years after my ex-husband fell upon his with such winning gusto.  There is a conspiracy theory I have, something which none of my friends have the heart to tell me.  The socking great herd of elephants trumpeting in the room, only I am not hearing them.  It is this: I have halitosis, stink of rotting fish, and am contributing, single-handedly, to the global obesity crisis, obv.  I must be.  Why else?

A friend told  me about a woman she knows who is very funny and has flashes of warmth but this woman’s default position according to my friend is prickly, chippy, difficult, charmless, defensive, shy,  rude, and a right bitch about everyone.   She embodies a whole smorgasbord of delightfulness, indeed!  She sounds a complete cow and profoundly off-putting.  She left her husband a few years ago, apparently; been alone since.  And there the story should end but, what do you know, doesn’t.   She has met a man who is kind, sophisticated, clever, funny, generous, adores her and they are in the vortex of Happily Ever After.

What can I say?

Prickly, chippy, difficult, charmless, defensive, shy and rude and a right bitch.

New Year’s Resolution.



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