Bar

[j4]

Working behind the bar tonight, in some ways it felt like I'd never been away. All the same people, drinking the same drinks, cracking the same jokes. Busy night, but not too busy for a rusty barmaid. I'd forgotten how sticky I felt by the end, though. And how much people comment on bits of my body (somebody else's body, that girl's body). "You shouldn't go sleeveless, love, it doesn't suit you." You know what? I don't give a toss. It's hot behind the bar. If I wore long sleeves, I would sweat like a pig. And it's the same fucking beer even if the woman who serves it to you is ugly, isn't it.

20 quid cash will come in handy though. Particularly since I left my wallet (and, incidentally, house keys) in work. (STUPID.)

Not sure I can cope with parties tomorrow. Or in fact getting out of bed. Except that I have to work at Oxfam tomorrow. Bed after that, I think.

Comments

[rysmiel.livejournal.com]

If I expressed absolute support for the most obvious policy that suggests, viz. not wearing very much, would it sound too much like I was becoming a caricature of myself ?

[j4.livejournal.com]

Sigh.

I dunno about a caricature of yourself. I just know that at the moment I feel hideously ugly. I just want to hide under a rock, or die quietly where nobody will notice. I certainly don't want anybody to see me with few clothes on, because I feel grotesque and lumpen and awful, but fortunately nobody is ever likely to see me in that kind of state again.