After all of my obsessing over stripe skirts last week, I thought now might be a good time to publish these photos – if only to remind myself that I REALLY don’t need another one.
Actually, though, it hasn’t really worked: not just because I still want that skirt, dammit, but also because when I look at this outfit now I can’t even SEE the skirt, because I’m just so distracted by the giant hank of hair hanging down by my right ear. I mean, can you believe that thing? When I first looked back at the photos, I was all, “Seriously, Terry? You couldn’t have told me I had a Hair Hank? A Hanky-Hank? A Hanky McHankerson?” “I thought it was maybe some kind of fashion thing,” said Terry, unrepentant. “I don’t even understand why half of the things that have to be in the photos are there? Like, sometimes the coat gets left in the car, but other times it’s, like, an ESSENTIAL part of the outfit? How am I to know whether a Hair Hank is deliberate or not?”
Folks, the Hair Hank was not deliberate. And now I’ve used the word “hank” so often that it started to sound weird to me, and I had to Google it, to make sure I wasn’t just making it up. (I have to do that every so often, because, when I was growing up, my parents would make up words a lot. To this day, I sometimes have to ask them if a word is a Real Word or one of Their Words. Terry is no help in this respect either: he grew up thinking there was a thing called a “planget”, because that’s how his Greek mum pronounced ‘blanket’. So convinced was he that this was a real word that there’s now probably an entire generation of his school friends who think there’s a sub-set of blankets which are called ‘plangets’…) Here’s the Google image result I got for “Hank”. Which really re-assured me, actually, because if that piece of hair had a personality, that’s what it would look like, seriously.
(Aaaand now I’m thinking about Hank Schrader and weeping. I really wish I hadn’t started this now.)
Anyway, here are some photos of me, Hank, and my stripe skirt. And before you all say it, worry not: no bloggers were harmed in the making of this post! I know it looks like I’m precariously balanced up there, but there was actually land right on the other side of that wall, so I wasn’t in any danger whatsoever. Also, I’m scared of pretty much everything, really (I mean, I was scared to go on one of the kids’ rides at the water park we went to when we were on holiday, not even joking…), so you never have to worry about me taking stupid risks for the sake of a photo. You probably DO have to worry about me buying that other skirt at some point, though…