Perfect barely-there make-up,
Immaculately French manicured nails,
Perched atop elegantly long slim fingers,
Exquisitely tailored clothes fitted to a T,
And lean legs ending in black stiletto heels.
Sitting beside her, I couldn’t help but feel scruffy, comparatively inadequate, found distinctly lacking. I believe she spoke, quite a bit actually because she was presenting, but I doubt many listened. We were too busy checking her out. I wonder if it unnerves her that people stare while she’s trying to speak to them. She wasn’t a great beauty, but oh, how so very well turned out!
Later I scuttle off to tell a fellow ‘normally scruffy’ friend about her and we sigh in unison over our lack of ability to achieve such heights. We moan; who has the time, effort and discipline to pull off such impossible feats? And we finally agree that we can only aspire and inevitably time and time again, fail to deliver.
Nondescript-ness it seems will always be our forte.