Friday, 1 May 2015

Childhood Tales Of Epicness

 A post in which I narrate my past.

The clown trials
and khaki

But..but..but I don't like pictures.

As a child, my dad found it necessary to dress me in boys clothing. I wore over sized khaki shorts, camouflage jumpers and the occasional suit vest. Out of 4 children, 3 being boys, I suspected he had thought the 4th would also be a boy (It wasn't obviously) and therefore chose to dress me in boys clothing. But really my assumptions were wrong. My dad just had a horrible sense of judgement when it came to fashion. I also blame it on the fact that I hated shopping and never chose my own clothes. My disliking to shopping started at a very young age.

But I soon developed my own style. It was strictly pink and  no exceptions. Nothing but ranging shades of this one gorgeous colour. No one could tell me that I couldn't wear pink. Well they could have, but they probably feared I'd get angry and start walking the streets naked as an act of rebellion.

As you can see, this picture is before my strictly pink phase. I totally rocked this jumper though.

 On one particular day, after being coaxed into to wear red ( I think it was for red nose day) I went to a school fair. It was one of those awkward social gatherings designed to emotionally traumatise kids and set them up for a life time of awkward encounters. But it was also a place where you could get your face painted in extraordinary colours and morph your face into anything you desired ( as long as it was in the artist's skill range).  I chose to go for something elegant and beautiful. I can't recall exactly what I chose but I didn't get it. Instead they drew a clown on my face.  And so I cried. I cried at the fair, on the way home too and I continued on crying until all the traces of face paint had disappeared. I don't have a picture to show you guys unfortunately, but try to envision an eight year old hysterically crying whilst caked in what seems like water resistant face paint (it took so dang long to wipe it off, we had to resort to baby oil).
After that day I vowed to never get my face painted again. I also vowed to never underestimate the pain that clowns must endure every day.

And that's it. I hope you enjoyed reading. Tell me what you thought and if you have any interesting childhood memories.

I'm out.


  1. Aw. It's funny the things that can upset us as a kid, and how big they feel at the time.

    The Life of Little Me

  2. I've tagged you for the emoji tag! xoxo