Sorry, that sounds a bit downbeat, doesn't it? I am actually beyond delighted. I'm up for the Fantasy Award this time round, against a trio of very lovely authors and two wonderful books, so I feel madly inadequate as usual, and am again wondering what the hell I should wear.
|This is the book. Not what I am going to wear...|
I am cursed with short hair and short legs. In fact, I look not unlike a bowling ball with a pair of feet. So, in desperation, I messaged my friend Lynda Stacey (who always looks lovely and is my own personal style guru), who very kindly sent along some items of clothing which may make me look a little less - well, rotund. I am currently in that stage of further desperation where I try on clothes, think I look acceptable in them, walk about a bit feeling quite swish, catch a glimpse of my back view in a mirror and realise that I look like a hippo in mourning, take off clothes, go and drink gin and then come back to repeat the performance with different clothes.
I am also in training to run a 10k race in May. The training takes the form of flailing my way up and down local hills in the company of a terrier who spends the whole run yelling 'lookrabbits!Runfaster, cancatchrabbits!' and is, quite frankly, exhausting. You would think that this training would mitigate the whole 'bowling ball' look, wouldn't you? Nope. I now look like a fuschia bowling ball.
|This is even the same expression as I wear.|
Well, it will make me stand out at the awards, if nothing else...