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I shopped for clothes, and I think I liked it. But I probably won't do it again. (Warning – this gets depressing.)
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Shopping for things that cling
Jan. 7th, 2014 11:06 pmThe next treatment goal on which I plan to spend all my medical spoons is hydrotherapy. I don't expect to be back in the pool doing kilometres of laps any time soon, but I'll see if I can do some stretches in warm water that aren't currently possible on dry land. More on that later, but before I can do that I need some bathers (aka swimmers, cossies, swimming costume, bathing costume), as it's many years since I've owned a pair that fit. Once I've got bathers I can cross the bridge of making appointments at the physio and somehow getting my carcass there on some kind of schedule.
( Read more... )Life *sigh*
Mar. 28th, 2012 11:55 pmLast Thursday I dropped off a dress at the local dressmaker's to repair a split seam. I hasten to note that it was not a load-bearing seam, but the interface between two fabrics of dissimilar tensile strengths. Said breech occurred sometime during either its first wash or its first wearing, but being an inexpensive Internet purchase it was just not worth the bother of sending it back.
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Neuralgia update
Mar. 22nd, 2012 11:06 pmI should have done this yesterday, but in the tradition of Interesting Medical Conditions I was in no condition yesterday to report on my Interesting Medical Condition. So this is a bit of a catchup.
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It was 1986. We all did it.
Dec. 18th, 2010 09:03 pmOr possibly 1987. It seemed important at the time; just a little thing, the difference between Year 11 and Year 12. I'm the one on the right, with the most hair. I'm either 15 1/2 or 16 1/2. I suspect the latter, although I'm torn because I think that was the year that my date Malcolm (sourced independently from ballroom dancing I might add, so worth 10 mere boy classmates) went home with my friend (hmmm) Sandrine (not pictured). That does it, it was 1996 (oops) 1986.
( Here it is )
( Here it is )
Clothes maketh the pauper
Aug. 28th, 2010 08:50 pmIn a recent attack of poutiness--combined with a lack of late-season cold-weather options of which I was not already hearily sick--I declared that I had nothing to wear. Specifically, nothing fabulous. This is not a new problem.
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