Poor little Samantha Brick.
How she has suffered! For the uninitiated
and the disinterested, let me just explain that Samantha Brick is a journalist
who, 2 days ago, wrote an article in the Daily Mail bleating stating that her life is a nightmare just because
she’s so beautiful. Before I continue, I
feel honour-bound to explain to my non-Brit readers that the Daily Mail is a
comic for grown-ups which masquerades as a tabloid newspaper in the UK.
Anyway, let us not divert our eyes from the lovely Samantha
a moment longer than necessary because, reader, I feel her pain.
How her life story resonates with mine! Our daily existence seems to travel along a
spookily parallel path because I too am blighted by excessive beauty. I am beautiful within and without – let me
elucidate (you see? I even use beautiful
language!)
 |
| Samantha Brick |
 |
| CQ |
It started right from childhood when I recall a maiden aunt
comparing me to a fine watercolour with the words “she’s no oil painting, is
she?”. I was thrilled! That was the remark that was to set the tone
for the rest of my life. All through
school my utter wonderfulness meant that the other girls couldn't bear to be
around me, lest they seemed bland by comparison. In PE for example, when the sports captains
were choosing teams, they would always leave me till the end – saving the best
till last you see! Then they would nobly
fight over who got to have me on their team – “you have her!” – “no YOU have
her!” they would cry until, at last, the teacher would shout “someone take her
for God’s sake, the lesson’s nearly over.”
I was moved by their generosity of spirit.
Queuing up for lunch, the boys behind me would always want
to feel the silken touch of my flowing hair.
Sometimes, their enthusiasm would overcome them and they might pull it
just a teensy bit in their youthful exuberance.
But hey – no harm done and none intended, I’m sure. The pain usually wore off after a couple of
hours.
As an adult, more praise and worship was to come my way. At work, I regularly attracted
attention. Sadly, my first boss was
terribly clumsy and rather selfish because he frequently dropped things and
then asked me to pick them up for him.
When I bent over, he would call to his colleagues, “fuck me, is there an
eclipse today?” so blinded was he by my beauty!
Nowadays, I work in a school and the pupils often comment as I sashay down
the corridors. Of course, I am often
preoccupied with work matters and am a little distracted. The students are kind enough to notice this
and I hear them whisper “she’s so sad” as I stride by. How uncommonly perceptive!
Occasionally, people like to have a little joke with
me. Only yesterday, I was at the till in
the supermarket, trying to find my purse in my handbag. Suddenly, I heard the assistant say, “Get on
with it, you stupid bitch!” but then I realised that she was talking to the
blind man behind me whose Labrador was so busy humping my leg (see – even animals
love me!) that it hadn’t guided its hapless owner to the conveyor belt.
The Shah often calls me “Broad in the Beam” – obviously referring
to my exquisite smile! He also likes to
celebrate my allure with a pretty nickname.
Yes, he often refers to me as Misshapen!
I think he means Miss Shapely, but English is not his first language, so
I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by pointing out his little error.
My children also love to celebrate their pride in my good
looks and all-round gorgeousness. They
have dreamt up a series of acronyms which they use as nicknames for me – these are
just a small sample:-
MUG – mum’s utterly gorgeous
MOOSE - mum of outstandingly special elegance
LOSER – Lady of strikingly elegant radiance
FUGLY – Fabulous, utterly glamorous, lithe and young
Can you come up with some more, I wonder?
Yours in utter fabulosity,
CQ xx
