The Ex Motto.

I wrote this post a while back, before Bloglovin scooped me up into it's loving arms. Apologies if you've already seen it, but after experiencing my friend almost go through the dreaded ex-meet last weekend, I decided to repost! So here you have it...

The Ex Motto

When it comes to dressing myself in the morning, my motto is simple: kit out like you’re going to run into an ex-boyfriend. Smart or Shallow? Conceited or Insecure? Probably all of the above. But I challenge any single girl to disagree with me! Of course you want to look like the one that got away - but at what cost?

I’m on night shift in a busy bar on the night a local football team has taken home the cup. By the end of the night I find myself sweaty, cranky and stinking of a putrid punch of lager, vodka and jagermeister. Upon my arrival home, I flop down onto the couch and swear to myself I will not, for love nor money, get out of my pyjamas the following day. Yes, I spent the majority of my day lying on the couch. Yes, I made my way through four chick flicks one after the other in a desperate bid to relocate my inner female following eight straight hours of testosterone fuelled singing and banter from the bar the night before. However, in pyjamas I am not. I am in fact fully clothed, hair done with a full face of makeup.

 My justification? That motto. That damn motto.

I’m not alone in this. Take, for example, the unsuspecting girl popping to the shops for a birthday card in her trackie bottoms and hangover hoody after a rather messy night out (this is starting to sound less and less hypothetical…). You think to yourself, ‘I’ll only be out ten minutes, who’s going to see me?’ so head out into the big bad sods law world as you are; a mess. Making it to the shopping centre – success. Grabbing the first card in sight – Success. Not being able to look the cashier in the eye because you know how awful you look – Success. Sort of. 
Walking out the shop and practically bulldozing your ex-boyfriend….absolutely priceless. 

You think back to when you were getting dressed that morning. Back to that moment you couldn’t decide between your sweats, and the tight jeans and ‘I’M OVER YOU’ t-shirt… Why Rachael. Why do you do this to yourself? He looks at you with a sympathetic smile, making a half-arsed attempt to hide his smugness. 

Then, and only then, do you notice the pretty little thing accompanying him. Resist, I repeat, resist urge to punch her right in her cute button nose.

It’s not her fault. She was just following the motto.