What the fuck am I doing with my life.
I'm 16 and I’ve never had a boyfriend, never got even the slightest bit tipsy and haven't snogged anyone since 2004. How sad is that!? The only explanation is that the magic power of the universe has doomed me to a life of solitude. Fuck it.
At least I’ve got my mates, Georgia and Helen. Georgia's the gorgeous goose of the family. She's taken us both under her wing and...there's an ant on my wall. OH. MY. GOD. What do I do? What do I do?!?! Kill it!? Oh really? What the bloody 'ell do I look like to you? An exterminator? For starters, I haven't got the necessary breathing equipment to carry out a procedure involving as many harmful chemicals as that. I don't wanna be going to hospital, ya know? Like, that could seriously mess up my chances of making the Blowie my boatie team. (Not what it sounds like. Seriously). What if I got lung cancer? How do the professionals deal with this sort of pressure everyday? Ok Lilly, pull it together. You got this. Just breathe, grab a piece of loo paper and squish that little sucker.
Ah, much better. Sorry for deviating a bit there. It happens. So I was saying...my life is a total mess. Like grab a block of wood, smash it into a billion pieces, put it through one of those paper shredders and chuck the remains off the top of a really tall building. Repeat 70 thousand million times. Can you picture it now? Maybe that's not the best example. Ok, so...
My eyes popped as I stared at the girl across the room. Bloody 'ell. She was a flamin' beaut. Now, now, I am straight. A 16 year old, Scottish girl who just knows how to appreciate beauty. Perfectly normal. (Well, that's a bit of a stretch). I glanced again at the girl. Her hair was done up all nice and fancy, she was wearing the most cracking gown and her face, (sigh) her face had the most natural beautiful glow to it. Wait a minute! That's me! Sometimes I'm so blonde I forget I’m looking in the mirror. Now all I had to do was survive the do my mum had put on for the whole effing neighbourhood. Who is THAT? God, he was the most beautiful concoction of body parts I had even seen: A teaspoon of mystery, dash of geek and a whole fucking bowl of sexy. He was WELL fit. Queue humiliation: You know how they say you judge a person within the first five seconds of meeting them? Well during that time I managed to stand on the edge of my dress, ripping off a big chunk as I stood up. That's not even the best part. The concept of fight or flight obviously doesn't register in my brain because as I was fleeing the embarrassing fiasco, I attacked the waiter. Beer drenched the front of my dress and of course, being ivory, made it look like someone had taken a piss on me. Hurdling back from the impact I collided with the dessert table, where that glorious chocolate mousse had taunted me all night. Now instead of staring at it, fantasizing about it's deliciousness, I stared at it, dumbfounded, as it smeared across the back of my gown. This night was turning pear shaped. I needed to get absolutely bladdered!
