In light of the unseasonably spectacular weather we were having today, I decided to premiere my new white tank top and red hippy skirt combo a few months early. Anyone close to me will tell you that I adore red, so changing out of my uniform of jeans and hoodie, and slipping on the ankle-length ruby number filled me with instantaneous confidence. I felt like I could do anything or be anyone. It was with this extra lust for life that I decided to go out and pick up some treats for my son and I. I strolled down the street, I Pod at my hip, feeling like I was in a Lily Allen video. I was lookin' and feelin' fine and, judging by the reaction I was getting from passers by, everyone was in agreement with me.
Or so I thought.
Half a block from the shops, I passed a rather handsome looking fellow who, immune to my charms, barely glanced up from the bike he was working on. I shrugged it off and pursued my course. On the way back, however, his demeanour had changed. On seeing me coming, he straightened up, grinned, and nodded in my direction.
'Hey,' I replied in the sultriest voice I could manage.
'That's a nice skirt.'
'Thanks. Just got it a couple of days ago.'
He walked up to me and leaned in close to my ear, his hot breath unleashing Armageddon upon my insides.
'Your skirt's tucked into your undies.'