Times change
Puberty makes all the difference, doesn't it?

Back when I was a nipper, I was a right tomboy, short haired, riding bikes, falling out of trees - and I helped out, selling sweeties and things, at the local rugby club. 'Give the lad your money then...' Always got mistaken for a boy.

Then, aged 11, pretty much overnight, lady bumps appeared. (Nought to 32B overnight beats any nought to 60 achievement I've ever heard) So, a bra became vital rather than something I didn't want to wear because it was too girly, and instead of being mistaken for a boy, I started being mistaken for my best friend.

As teenage years and huge diets came along, I was compared to a golf club (the stick/bat thing not the drinking establishment) as I was skinny skinny skinny all the way down to my bulbous Dr Marten boots..

Latterly, I've been mistaken for Catherine Zeta Jones. I have long dark hair, but that's kind of it... I am not skinny malinky* and I am not married to a piece of Hollywood history. It does seem that if you're a girl, and Welsh, it's the rules that you have to look like either Ms Zeta Jones or Ms Church. I certainly swear like Charlotte.

And the most recent? Last Sunday my 'Barbara Good' fancy dress efforts were lost on someone who suggested I'd come as as a tramp (down and out rather than woman of loose morals, for all you non Brits)Some people have no imagination.

*I like pies. And cake.
( ancrenne doesn't eat anything that can play video games, Fri 1 Jun 2007, 12:30, closed)