I had this thought that if I'm ever going to stop my arse from growing I may have to implement clown fear. Run, Beverly, run a clown is chasing you. I have a paralysing fear of clowns but no inspirational motive to lose weight. No internal need to strong and fit. I don't have to exercise to feel better, the research team at Pfizer have taken care of that. And let's be realistic - how stunning can my results be? I'm not the bow flex Grannie, I'm the National Geographic Grannie.
Well perhaps I should spend SOME time not talking about myself. The store is lovely, all ready for Christmas. The papers are all nestled into their racks and the ribbons and embellishments are dancing on their heads. I'm in my lounge wear and ready to serve. Lately, there have been some random customers. You know, strangers. They catch me off guard and it takes some doing on my part to stop my heart from pounding and start the show. What are they thinking? What makes them happy? Are they put off by a lounge wear wearing, DP drinking saleslady? Who knows? You just have to do your best and hide the stuff you don't want to sell.
The Christmas papers are lovely.
and that was it....for then she got the flu. when I say she, I mean me
this is 2 weeks later and I still have the flu but I'm going to post this incomplete stream of conscious thought.