work it baby, work it

Do you remember back in August I was having a particularly good week? Ginge and me were having lots of fun with me being overly efficient, making playdough and the like. I even ventured out of the house and got papped by Grazia magazine?

Well, last week a lovely lady phoned me to tell me I'd been picked as one of the finalists for the style hunter awards. Moi? Stylish? Seriously? Obviously they haven't seen me at home in my sweatpants and no make up on, have they? (the exact outfit I was wearing when the phone rang, in fact). The husband said 'typical, the one day you actually leave the house and get yourself looking pretty and you get spotted in the street'. He's rather chuffed with himself for having such a stunner as his missus (I'm joking, folks - he sees me in my sweatpants/scratty t-shirt combo). It's the Ginger one kissing my hand that makes the pic for me. I look a bit confused by the whole experience.

Now...I'm not saying you should, but if you happened to accidently click on the link and then found yourself voting for me and the Ginger one as Leeds's most stylish and I won....well, it'd make me a very proud 'full time mother' (like my job title? Why didn't I think of something more exciting? I could have made any old thing up - I was too shocked that they weren't trying to sell me life insurance or a catalogue and actually were being serious when they said 'you look really cool'). It might make me less likely to sit about in my sweatpant/scratty t-shirt combo.

Now, please excuse me, I have my catwalk strut to perfect....mwah mwah.