Tiggy is a Bad Girl
No, this post isn’t about whips and leather fetishes. Maybe I’ll post those pictures later, but in the meantime I have a problem.
It states on my birth certificate I am female, but I wonder if the doctor made a mistake. I appear female, but I’m incapable of being girly. I only own four pairs of shoes, I’ve never been to a spa and I’m terrified of hairdressers. I’ve seen more feminine transvestites (even the ones with beards).
As you may know from my previous beauty attempts my face does not improve with make-up. Attempting to conceal my morning hangover with expensive beauty products, I look like I’m auditioning for a Rob Zombie horror flick. Those beautiful ladies on the make-up adverts promise I’ll look radiant and sexy, but neglect to add “This product will smudge, crack, get stuck in your eye and cause small children to laugh at you in the Post Office'”. Bitches.
But I’m A LADY! I do Lady things!
If my face is a multicolour disaster zone, my nails are even worse. I’ve seen battery farm chickens with better manicures. Not that I would dare have them done professionally – I’d get laughed out the beauty parlour with “I have an emery board, not a magic wand,” ringing in my ears.
Clothes shopping is a retail pastime for proper ladies, but a journey to hell for me. I go out with the intention of buying nice girly dresses. After trying every dress in the store and sobbing in the changing room until Security ejects me, I go home with a t-shirt and a vow never to leave my house again. Why do lady clothes make me look like a bad drag act?
OK, I Give Up
And the horror of wearing high heels! It’s not a sexy walk, more of a lurch. I would rather use the excuse of being drunk and on drugs than admit I’m sober and cannot walk in stilettos. (Although that excuse doesn’t go down well at job interviews, trust me).
So I clatter awkwardly down the street in my transvestite dress and zombie make-up, about to fall off my heels into the path of oncoming traffic. I wonder how many more are like me. Not that I can tell who they are, as they look like bad drag acts too.
I’m going to stop trying to be girly, burn my clothes and become a back-to-earth naturist. Hippies danced around all day with nothing more than a flower in their hair and seemed perfectly happy. I’ll have an excuse never to leave house and if I do, I would be a bad girl. I’ll post some pictures after the cops release me.
They like dressing up in ladies’ clothing over at Humor-Blogs.com
