overlap

It's about nearly six foot and thirteen stone of xy-chromosomed loveliness in a size 14 dress, it's about a pair of marginally over-muscled legs in sparkly tights and three inch heels, and on occasion it's about one bottle of wine and several coats of mascara too many. I've always had sparkly inclinations, and while I've rarely fought them, I've also never gone out of my way to publicise them beyond the obvious either. Over the last couple of years, it's been my privilege and pleasure to get to know, to limited and varying extents, a select group of sparkly ladies whose wisdom and savoir-faire in matters sparkly has enabled them to see fit to recognise and accept me as one of their own. Greater love hath no woman than to lay down her hair straighteners for another, or some such. Granted, I'm not your average girl. In any way. But I'm here, and I've got a pink handbag, to say nothing of a white wine enhanced smile And I'm very happy with that.