Ouch

I should be off to the voting polls, but I've had a few too many vinos last night, so I need to wait for the ibuprofen to kick in and clear my head first. I've already had my usual "hangover-tabasco-y egg" but it's not doing its usual trick. I feel nauseated rather than energised.

The polls are open till 1pm anyway, so I've got time.

I was invited to a wedding in Brussels last night. My best friend from primary school, whom I've only really been sporadically in touch with these last ten years, got married and was so kind to invite me to her wedding, despite us having grown apart. While this might seem strange, she would likewise be one of the first people on my list of people to invite if I ever were to get married. I think situations like this offer an excellent opportunity to tell people they are an intrinsic part of your past. One you will forever value and be grateful for. And when I think back of how inseperable we were as kids, it only makes sense that we have a bond still, despite the changes life brought along for us both.

I knew only a handful of people at the wedding, but my friend had told me she'd seated me at the "international" table and that I would feel right at home. Strangely enough, I did. I was sat next to a young British couple who incidently also went to Keele University the years I was there. This is a really small world indeed. Scarily and comfortingly so. A short while later, I started talking to a guy who's mother turned out to be a client of the company I work with now, and yet another person I met, works for a potential prospective client of ours. I never cared much for this whole "networking" thing, as I prefer meeting people for the sake of who they are, rather than for the favours they could potential do me. But it seems perfectly possible to do both, without a hidden agenda.

The big dilemma of the night, yet again, was what to wear. I'm admittedly not a natural fashionista. It takes me a lot of effort to throw something together that is moderately acceptable. Moreover, I've not exactly had a lot of time to go shopping for outfits, or to get the tan needed to carry off the strapless dress I've had stored in my closet of months now. When I tried on said dress, I felt like I'd just stepped out off my coffin in the latest low-budget vampire film. Suffice it to say it wasn't a pretty sight. If I was a fairskinned elfin, maybe, but I'm of pretty standard Flemish breed-stock, so pale is simply dauntingly pale.

The only real other alternative was a suit. I have issues with suits for one reason only: They are (in my opinion at least) very sexy on women, BUT a lesbian with a suit is seen as a stereotype rather than a sexy fox. I weighed up my options. Strapless ghoul, or stereotype. It's hardly an attractive list of options. Then I remembered that very few people there would know me or my sexuality, and that I am being ridiculously hypocritical by actually caring what others would think, when I normally pride myself on being different.

So... on went the suit. I'm not sure I fitted in at the wedding, but I sure as hell felt a lot more comfortable ;-)

- Living the stereotype. Face removed. Ghoul is ghoul, whether wearing a suit or not ;-) And yes, I'm perhaps ever so slightly more vain than I would care to admit lol -