Yer not from round 'ere, are yer?

The years ended in confusion
Don't ask me, I don't know what happened
But I am a man with a mission
Must be the devil I don't know
Finally marching to a different tune
                           'I Walk Away' Split Enz

Today I have been into town and owned Asda! Well maybe not owned it, but this carrying myself with confidence malarkey has been getting a bit easier.  I decided that one of my (many) issues is while I have no problem glamming up if I'm going out, my motivation for looking good mooching around the house or on errands is not so hot. This is at least partly because the little East Midlands market town we live in is not, bless its cotton socks, renowned for its thousands of stylish residents.  The kindest man in the world insists I'm the best dressed woman in town, but even he admits it's not a high bar to jump.

So the effort in looking good going out has not always been there and I don't wish to sound shallow but it has had an effect on my confidence.  This is where the kindest man in the world chips in with 'you are not shallow darling, and if anyone says you are I'll kill them and use their feet for slippers'. You have been warned haha.  It shouldn't matter that I look a bit of a bag of shite when everyone around me looks a bit of a bag of shite. But it does. But it shouldn't. But it does. It does and it doesn't matter that it does. I am not shallow. Really.

So I did my hair and whacked on a bit of slap and walked out of the house with my head up and owned the bus and town and Asda.  I could have owned Home Bargains as well, but one has to maintain some standards.

I have a dilemma. I'm a bit of a whackjob. I have eccentric dress sense. My hair colour can't be found in nature. And I do love that about me, I really do, buuuttt....part of me just wants to blend in with everyone else.  It's that hiding thing again. Hello, my name is Sandy and I am a walking contradiction in terms. I can't hide, there's no way I can hide.  I'm loud and enormous and I have a foreign accent. I can't hide and I don't want to hide. But I do. But I don't. But I do. Aaaaaaaghhhhhh!!!

Why even fret about it if it's never going to happen? Another bloody waste of energy!

They say the older you get the less you care about what people think and it's true but not true enough for me. I still haven't accepted who I am. There it is.  How old do I have to get for it to happen, 103?

If it's never going to happen and at this stage of my life that's pretty much certain, then I should just stop dreaming about hiding, right?  Right.  I'm not from around here.  I'm from the other side of the world, for fuck's sake. Even when I was on the other side of the world, I wasn't from around there either, really. So shall we just embrace our individuality and move on?

I like makeover shows, but they annoy the shit out of me at the same time. Yeah OK some of the makeover recipients are in serious need of help, but by the same token, why do they all come out looking polished, but basically the same? Are you not really 'made over' until you've become generic?

I want to be me, but why has that not been enough for some people? More importantly...why has that not been enough for me?

Missions for today: self hypno and no more hiding.  I shouldn't be trying to do it anyway.  I am really, really crap at it.