Ok so not the conventional opening to a blog but I'm sorry to admit that this controversial topic has been on my mind lately.
I don't dabble with drugs (really mother I don't). I'm much more a full pack of flyers saucers washed down with a cold glass of Dr Pepper kind of girl, but as of late I've noticed a recurring theme. People start using drugs and drop 4 dresses sizes. It's hard to not be slightly tempted. A minute up the nostrils and pounds of the waist..
Now before you start singing the Grange Hill classic "Just Say No", I am fully aware that illegal substances have their down sides. It's just that everytime I see a skinny girl in a skin tight leotard dress with not even the hint of an after dinner podge, it makes me wonder what it would be like to dabble.
I never will though. One unfortunate incident involving pills at a Halloween party and I was convinced the radiator was trying to kill me. Plus I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and by this I mean breaking down in the middle of the frozen aisle of Iceland because my heavy basket was hurting my hands, a tin of baked beans had dropped out and I just couldn't take anymore. So me on a comedown doesn't seem like the prettiest (or most manageable) of situations.
And if my mother is reading this and frantically typing "how to help your druggie daughter" into Google then relax. The only white powder on my person at present is the sherbet from my dib dab. It's a mellow high.
I don't dabble with drugs (really mother I don't). I'm much more a full pack of flyers saucers washed down with a cold glass of Dr Pepper kind of girl, but as of late I've noticed a recurring theme. People start using drugs and drop 4 dresses sizes. It's hard to not be slightly tempted. A minute up the nostrils and pounds of the waist..
Now before you start singing the Grange Hill classic "Just Say No", I am fully aware that illegal substances have their down sides. It's just that everytime I see a skinny girl in a skin tight leotard dress with not even the hint of an after dinner podge, it makes me wonder what it would be like to dabble.
I never will though. One unfortunate incident involving pills at a Halloween party and I was convinced the radiator was trying to kill me. Plus I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and by this I mean breaking down in the middle of the frozen aisle of Iceland because my heavy basket was hurting my hands, a tin of baked beans had dropped out and I just couldn't take anymore. So me on a comedown doesn't seem like the prettiest (or most manageable) of situations.
And if my mother is reading this and frantically typing "how to help your druggie daughter" into Google then relax. The only white powder on my person at present is the sherbet from my dib dab. It's a mellow high.
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