And what am I going to wear?
My wardrobe contains some choice strapless and backless frocks. They’ve been big hits in the past, especially with Nick. But I don’t think I can wear them anymore. I fear that I will feel too exposed. I’ve got scars, I’ve lost weight, my hair has fallen out, I’ve got a pot belly on account of doing no exercise since this all began. Unsurprisingly, I’ve developed a somewhat negative self-image.
I Skype Nick and discuss my reservations with him.
“You should wear those dresses,” he says decisively, “part of the acceptance is showing your breasts off.” “But what if people can see my scars?” I reply. “Everybody will be looking at your tits not your scar. I mean that’s what breast were made for, to be looked at,” says Nick. From a male perspective it’s so simple. I like that.
Living on Portobello Road is a big plus when it comes to putting together a holiday outfit with little time and even less cash.
Here is what I bought today to wear in Barcelona:
An acid lime green full-length cotton kaftan from the Indian shop - £16.99
A pair of silver sandals from Office - £10
A Panama style hat made of rolled paper that I can squash up and pack in my suitcase from a second hand stall - £4
To complete the outfit I went to Selfridges and bought a bottle of the most outrageous fluorescent ‘Punchy Pink’ nail varnish by Essie - £8.99
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