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Let it all hang out
Being British it goes without saying I pride myself on being passive agressive. I say nothing, reveal nada and will most likely die young as a result - but the fact is, it's inbuilt. There's nothing I can do - and despite living in Italy, where revealing emotion is an art-form not a day goes past when I watch in envy at the Italian woman yelling, shouting and cursing at one another, friends, lovers and taxi-drivers.
This morning however my British reserve got an unplanned outing this morning when in my rush to get work - combined with the snow (again????) my trusty Dolce & Gabbana bag (ensures VIP service at my local cafe e-v-e-r-y-t-i-m-e) split, dispensing it's contents on the pavement in front of hoardes of commuters. Yes, laid out on the virgin white snow was my pathetic little display of my wordly goods: US Weekly, hand-cream, a yogurt, vitamin supplements and (ripped) pieces of my bank statement.
Now I understand immediately that non-British readers will wonder what all the fuss is about - it's not as if suppositories, a vibrator and handcuffs fell out of my bag into the path of a little old lady - but to a reserved Brit, the concept of scooping up a raspberry yogurt and my copy of US weekly in front of chic men enroute to the office is soo e-x-c-r-u-t-i-a-t-i-n-g, not to mention humilating when a passer-by offered to pick up pieces of my drowning overdraft. All so not worthy of muse-status.
Theraputic messages please to behindtheseamsgirl@gmail.com
