Tuesday, 12 November 2013


To most, I don’t exactly come across as a touchy-feely person. To Ewan, I’m probably the touchiest feeliest person around. I imagine I resemble some sort of koala bear – strictly in the clinging to a tree sense, not the chlamydia sense. But to the majority of others – I’m an arms-length kind of gal.

Want to know when I like to get my stroke on? When I’m SHOPPING. I can’t help but weave in and out of shops having a right good feel of what’s on offer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not in Aisle 7 of Asda caressing the furniture polish – this is strictly clothing related.
At first I didn’t notice how much I did it -  a sleeve here, a collar there – until Ewan called me out on it one day, after witnessing me almost going to second base with a particularly beautiful jacket. I laughed it off at the time, and probably stopped doing it for the duration of the shopping trip – but the next time I went out I couldn’t help myself. I love me some sleeve.

It wasn’t until a recent trip to Topshop that I got stuck in a rotation with another feeler (that’s what I’m calling us – creepy right?), and as we flirted with half of the items in the shop, I couldn’t stop myself from realising how ridiculous we must look.

Image from Pinterest
A feeler in action...
“I like that jumper there…”
“Ooh yeah, that’s gorgeous! You should get it!”
“Hang on, best have a feel first… NOPE, IT’S LIKE A BED OF NAILS. Get it away from me.”

I mean, what do we really expect from copping a feel? I know I’m not the only one who does it… there are at least two of us out there.

Another thought that has crossed my mind is how much my own items of clothing have been felt up. It’s one thing masking yourself from the idea of your partner having been touched by someone else before you – but my clothes?!

I can’t bear the thought. 

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