Saucy Skirts and Wild Hair.

5 Feb

I am, what some would call, an easy target when it comes to playful teasing.

There isn’t a day that goes by without some gentle ribbing thrown my way. Having grown up an only child, (and continued to be an only child into my adult years) it took some getting used to, but now I know it’s a sign of affection and tolerance. I’m also pretty gullible and easily spooked so that comes into play a heck of a lot more than I care to admit.

Today was particularly bad as I’d complained about my unruly fringe and my work skirt that refused to stay the right way round for more than 10 minutes. The least helpful thing is reaching for your key fob only to realise it’s dangling at the front of your skirt, like a bit of string over an excitable kitten. These whines led to me getting the titular nickname for the full run of today’s shift, and I fear I won’t be shaking it anytime soon.

If I don’t get a better replacement, it will be the new No.1 on my list of potential autobiography titles.


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