This is a lighthearted post.

A couple of years ago, when I was at my lowest physically (still looking like a skeleton with bad skin and two bald patches after my illness), I was plunged into depression, anger and jealousy when I saw a photo of my partner with a tall, blonde colleague.  It was an innocent photo, taken at work, but their expression (familiarity, ease, big smiles) sent me into an emotional tailspin.  He should be with her, not I. I was so down.

“Jac!” he exclaimed in exasperation. “How many times have I told you, I am done with tall blondes. Got that out of my system by my mid-twenties. I am into short, feisty Asians now.”

Then fast forward a few months later.  We were on a romantic break in Singapore, went to yoga together, all lovey-dovey and sweet.  And then….the studio owner came over and acted all familiar and possessive with him….you guessed it, she was an ex. I was livid!

“Uh, I thought you might be friends,” he said, clueless. “You know, you both being yogis, same age and very alike.” YEAH, SHORT, FEISTY ASIAN LIKE ME! Talk about waving a red rag to a bull!!!

He sighed. “We men are less complicated. I am mates with one of yours. Is it too much to ask for you to be civil to one of mine? Because I do enjoy her yoga class.”

GET STUFFED.

Anyway, here’s a funny little skit from the New Yorker.

If the video link is not playing here, do go to the page itself by clicking here.

“Come on, Jac,” he cajoled. “Be magnanimous in victory, hey?”

Look at this face. It says: NOT. CONVINCED.

Have a good weekend, folks xxx

Photo on 6-22-17 at 12.48 #3