2004-10-10 - 12:20 p.m.

Sorry guys, long time no speak.
This uni thing is bigger than Ben Hur.
I've been putting in 14 hour days but seem not to be able to see over the top of the mound.
Nevermind.
Thought I might go back to the more personal side of my life and review an entry from my days as Mangoes.
Now, you must understand. I was in a different mindset then. Depressed (for sure). Overweight and not coping.
But of course, when one is female and one is not coping, one can usually be found ... SHOPPING.
But shopping with a two-year-old was not fun. It was anything but fun. It was ugly with a great big, fat U.
So my tendency was to run past the cheapest clothes shops, grap the first thing I saw which might actually fit my huge body, buy it as quickly as possible while holding cyclone R down with one hand and signing a credit card slip with the other.
On this day we had already had two major supermarket tantrums, my bra straps were falling off my shoulders, I was dragging R along like a sack of wheat and damn it, I wasn't leaving that store until I had bought something for myself. Anything would do.
Lumbering past a clothes store, I spottted a cheap, sparkly, cream T-shirt with a green motif.
Nice.
Just what I wanted.
So I quickly bought it, ignoring the counter chickie's suggestions to try it on and look at it in the mirror.
No thankyou. You might just not have a store left after such an act.
So I hustled it out of there and went home and put R to bed.
In peace and quiet, I put on my lovely new T-shirt and paraded around the room, feeling triumphant. Pretty sparkly things AND it fit.
Success.
R. awoke and I strolled off with him to the store to buy bread. The friendly shop man there looked at me. And looked. And looked.
And the direction at which he was looking was .... "BOOB LEVEL PEOPLE".
Wow, I thought. I'm not such a fat freak afterall. Men are looking at my boobs.
I strutted all the way down the street then marvelling at how this lovely new cream shirt with the sparkly bits was having such an effect on man (and women) throughout my nice, conservative, middle-class neighbourhood.
I couldn't wait for my husband to come home to show off my newfound beauty.
He came home and, in an instant, his eyes were also glued to my breast level.
"I don't know what it is about this shirt, darling," I said.
"It's given me so much self-confidence. Everyone is looking at my breasts instead of my fat tummy."
The look my husband gave me should have given me some sort of a clue.
"Go and take it off."
Hmmmm. It really was working. R was asleep. "Sure, honey," I purred.
"No. Take it off and read what it says."
Mystified, I shrugged the glamorous garment off and then started with horror at the revealed sparkly message.
"I love cannabis."
Oh. My. God.
Cheers
Rantan aka Mangoes

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