The great reveal – of sorts. This is a pic of me sitting in my car on arrival at uni in a pretty dishevelled state, after less than two hours’ sleep the other day. Following on from less than three hours the day before. I have developed beautiful black shadows under my eyes, huh? Smokey eye, in reverse. I liked them so much, I selfied!
Emotional exhaustion is possibly the most draining aspect of the post-affair life for me. I used to be a very youthful looking woman, and whilst I know I am not quite a crone (hmmm, I have posted a selfie, pretty damn vain, really. Even if it is after two pretty sleepless nights and long days of driving to collect people from airports in the wee small hours) I often wonder (even more vanity) what I would have looked like at this age without the agony of the past six years. After all, happiness is the most important ingredient in any beauty regime.
I like to pretend I would have looked so much better, but in reality, meh. Who really gives a shit? Looks had nothing to do with why he kept fucking my “friend” – she is ugly inside and out, and always has been. I kept trying to soften her edges, to give her the benefit of the doubt, to show her kindness, hoping it would help her. What a mug!