Today's earlier post probably left you with the impression I look like Quasimodo with the ebola virus, right? Well you would never guess what I've agreed to do next week. That's right, I'm getting a fake tan.
I've mentioned before that I'm flying to Paris to have lunch at the Eiffel Tower, and this is still going ahead on 9 July. I've bought a rather sexy summer dress to wear that plunges down front and back - oh la la. But to ensure that I don't stop traffic in a bad way, by blinding the Parisian motorists, I've committed to paying someone to spray me with high blasts of golden tan. I'm going to be Fake Baked.
If you know me well, you would recall I have a strict "No Touch" policy, that is only slackened on three strict conditions:
If you know me well, you would recall I have a strict "No Touch" policy, that is only slackened on three strict conditions:
- if it's Friday;
- if you've bought me dinner; and/or
- if I am, or have been, drinking.
So not only am I going to ignore these conditions, I am going to do it while standing in front of a complete stranger in my underwear. And then pay her for it. Crikey, this is serious.
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