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Monday, 3 October 2016

A Girl And Her Donut

Not a euphemism, by the way. The following is a true story of a little encounter I had a couple of days ago. I was sat next to a young girl when somebody else placed several bags of donuts on the table to her left. Her eyes flashed with desire, and she commented on the smell. I assumed she was referring to the food rather than any unsavoury odour I was permeating, so I enquired as to whether she intended to partake?
"Oh no!" She exclaimed, "I'm going on holiday in November."
Please note that it was October 1st. Showing uncharacteristic restraint I resisted encouraging her to seek medical advice. But let's be honest if it takes your metabolism that long to break down a jam donut then clearly something isn't working as it should. Being the true gentleman I am I scoffed one right beside her, licking my lips and slobbering like Jimmy Saville in a deserted mortuary. I also did my best to lead her astray but must confess to singularly failing in this project. I have to hand it to the girl; she'd got self control. Beyond the comic value of this episode I did find myself contemplating what such vanity says about someone? But then is it vanity? Could she simply be a reflection of the disproportionate value we place on physical appearance these days? If yes then how sad. How tragic that we have reduced ourselves to this. One day this fresh faced young thing will have wrinkles, cellulite, and sagging in all kinds of unwanted places. I can't help but wonder if she's making a rod for her own back. But then perhaps I'm just jealous? Perhaps this flagging arthritic 45 year old secretly yearns for his younger, more finally tuned days. . .
Actually no. I don't want to turn back the clock. Physical afflictions aside I like who I am. I'm way past any desire to fit some pre ordained mould, and if it's all the same to you I shall plod on in my own weary, occasionally cynical way. I'm unconcerned how this world perceives me, and my hope for our donut phobic fair maiden is that she reaches a similar equilibrium. I hope she comes to recognise that being good is far less fun than being real.

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