Day 217: Vote One For Heels With Socks

I have to get a little defensive rant off my shoulders before I start anything else. Yes. I am someone who wears socks with my sandals. And my heels. There is something I love about the look. There is lots I like about the feel. It gives you something in your shoe to keep you warm and comfy without the restrictedness of tights. I also think (with the heels) that it looks feminine and girly and I like it. I have the utmost trouble finding suitable socks would be my only concern with the whole trend. I jumped on the Jelly Bean train this week with the arrival of my pair. I was super-tempted to go with the sparkles, but decided to be 'adult' about the whole thing. My personality, based on my colour choice, apparently is that of the starer into space, the owner of a sieve-like memory, the kind of person who has a shower when they notice their feet are dirty. Mmm? Sparkles would have meant I have a pet unicorn. Socks mean I don't have to wait until summer to wear these surprisingly comfy shoes.

Quick progress report on the diet. It is moving in the right direction despite not always feeling like it. I am slightly better on my off days this week, but there is still too many biscuits. From Pinterest again, I am following somebody's well-put mantra and 'eating whatever I like and hoping for a dieting miracle'—except for the fasting days. Fasting was okay this week. I was super tired and slightly daft though. Not a good combination when working. Please don't get yourself into a sticky situation within my geographical precinct of emergency care on a Monday or Tuesday. But on the positive side: four kilos down and twenty-one to go. It's the best I have been all year in this mad dieting endeavour.

List_Addict               Irene
Now let's get rid of the last book review for the foreseable future (the pile is replete with chunky books like War and Peace at the moment so may be a while before I finish one again)—Diamond in the Rough: A Memoir by Shawn Colvin. It was the book of the month for the Literary Junkies Book Club: a club of which I am a very bad, non-participating member (because I am terrible at Twitter and also at finishing the book on time) and which I use mainly as a suggestion list for books to read (except September, because I don't think I can read a book about a horse and November because, for some reason, I get a funny feeling about Jodi Picoult—hush down people, I know you all think she is brilliant). Anyway. Colvin's memoir took us from her South Dakota and Illinois childhood to the present through her music as positive, and her mental illness, substance addiction and disasterous record with men as not so. Let me just come out and say it: I am not a fan of the memoir, the biography or the autobiography. Is that bad? Is that a sign that I am not really interested in other people? That I would rather read what becomes a reflection of my own imagination through the structure of plot and character than what someone did? I hate to admit it, but I think there is some truth to that. I do find people interesting in small doses. I like to find out little idiosynchrasies and plot points over time. But when it's layed down birthy end to deathy end, or somewhere in-between, I blah out. Give me fictional characters anyday. But it does explain why I am finding David Copperfield hard going. It's really a fictional memoir. I'm giving Diamond in the Rough a three. But I am being generous.

The Outfit T-shirt: Gifted from PooBee Cardigan: Op-shopped Skirt: Retail, had for ages Earrings and Ring: Lovisa Socks: Bonds Shoes: Jelly Beans

Photographer de Jour: Moi

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