I Am Getting Old

I Am Getting Old

Seriously, I have just had a gala weekend most WGs would give their eye teeth to have. I mean I did Belle Du Jour proud. Starting with the taking of a long and through bath, shaving, waxing manicuring, pedicuring, hair curling, and a deft application of make up that rendered my skin flawless. It took about an hour and a half to apply it just right, checking it from different angles. If I do say so myself, it was magnificent. Urban Decay-Glinda limited eye shadow palette for those curious.

The dress was Valentino, the shoes Louboutins, the bag McQueen, the accessories were blinging as should warrant the opening of a grand hotel in London. The champagne flowed, as it should at these things, I was chatted up by several rather famous and infamous people. I was in my element, holding court. This was Violette at the top of her game. I am now down to a dress size 36-38! And have been training with a new personal trainer that makes satan look fluffy, but that boy has snapped me into shape in 12 weeks. He was worth every penny. Yes at 6 ft tall I am now a size 36-38! So I am thin, tall, and fit as fuck, as the boys in Liverpool are known to chant as a mantra when they visit me. Even clients who saw me two months ago, have said when seeing me now. Bloody hell woman, you have one figure on you. The ego is boosted. I should be feeling beautiful, fine, and ready to take on the world? Right?

Then why am I so fucking bored with it all? Seriously, have I become so jaded, that gala events with international famous people, now leave me yawning and desperate for a pair of pink fuzzy slippers? Or is it that I am getting old? I just don’t understand the sudden dissatisfaction with the status quo. Mind you I am loving the new fit and toned bod. No carbs pass my lips now, nor sugar, occasionally a bit of fruit, but that is about once a week. So, my muscle mass is lean, my ass is still perky(after the deep squats, that bastard of a personal trainer makes me do.), but hey I will always have that. The rest of me is trim, toned and tidy.

I think my overall problem is that I have actually been working too damn hard! Thus the dissatisfaction with the current situation. Another reason why I am not really touring in Ireland anymore. Way too much like hard work. Seriously, the fun is gone, it is too much stress, for too little gain. Thus the new trimmer, leaner, meaner, and seriously higher priced Violette. I am over renting myself out by the hour. It is gruelling. But when the money was brilliant, I was up for it all. Now with clients calling and bargaining! No thank you, I will take myself off to other climes more suitable to my temperament, and bank balance.

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