FH in sunburn shocker
The Fag Hag is getting herself all waxed, peeled, plucked, Ronsealed and painted in preparation for that most fabulous of events tomorrow night, the Glamour Woman of the Year Awards.
Along with the usual stresses of what to wear and what to hair, I now have the additional trauma of trying to conceal a hideously chavvy pink sunburn stripe which just screams Malaga right across my decollatage.
Now sunburn is bad enough when it’s contracted (yes I do say contracted because I see it more or less on the same level as a venereal disease) abroad, but when it’s clearly happened in Fag Hag mum’s Muswell Hill garden on a weekend? It don’t get more common than that. I mean please, why don’t I just join the seccies who sunbathe in black bras during lunchtime in Soho Square and be done with it.
I’m just hoping and praying that my delightful designer pal Philip at Unconditional who is very kindly letting me rifle through his beautiful concoctions for the soiree will have some sort of clever disguise up his sleeve…otherwise I’ll be channelling Cherie Blair with a womanly-style wrap affixed with brooch.