Feeling good!

I had my appraisal today. I hate appraisals, I always become so anxious in anticipation of the dreadful meeting. I really don't like discussing my 'key realizations' or whatever the trendy current name is that they give to achievements this year. It seems like encouraging arrogance to me, and it just doesn't come naturally. Well, not too naturally...

I know that the men in this department earn twice as much as I do, and they clearly do not work any harder or take on any more responsibility than I, so why do I have to justify deserving my bonus in such a degrading way? I don't like to go 'cap in hand' to anyone.

It is substantially more expensive to be a woman than a man, so we should naturally be paid more than they. Men do not need to buy make-up, or a fabulous wardrobe to look the part. They are not required to spend substantial sums of cash at the hairdressers or beauty shop to be taken seriously. They wear the same old suit most days of the week and buy their underwear in multi-packs from chain stores.

I must admit I went a tad too far with the Big Boss, I am after all an incorrigible flirt. When BB asked me to 'justify' my required bonus and pay rise - I asked him if he was aware of the price of a pair of Wolford's - I really wish I hadn't. He began staring at my legs...

I caught the number 3 bus home tonight as usual. I trudged up the stairs and took my seat next to a stranger. I was just unfolding my copy of The London Lite - when I heard two females from a couple of rows behind talking out loud, (I know I admit it - I am always listening):

"Her mother is Irish, it doesn't necessarily follow that she is", said the first woman.

"Interesting", I thought to myself, "my darling mother is Irish, and what an endless source of mirth and heartache that is!"

"She catches this bus - she always says that. She catches the number 3", the woman continued.

Mmm, I wondered who? The mother, or the woman they are talking about.

"I bet she is a real glamour puss", said the second woman.

"How can they be talking about someone who they know that catches this bus but who they don't really know at all? Hold on", I thought to myself, now I was getting paranoid...

I began fingering my hair nervously, glad I washed it this morning, but wishing I had lightened the colour a little more - I was just so afraid of ending up ginger.

"I read her blog every day, she really makes me laugh - she takes herself so very seriously."

"I am sure that she really carries that enormous handbag".

OHMYGOD - they were actually talking about me, Dulwichmum!They don't know me, but they kind of do, and they like me, they even said that too! Thank God for that!

I stood up to leave, hiding my bag beneath my open newspaper. I turned around, and there they were! They didn't notice me at all. I was shocked to the souls of my beautiful Hobbs shoes. They were only about twenty years old! Why would they be reading the blog of an old married lady like me?

This year I don't mind if I don't get a big pay rise, I don't need it to make me walk tall right now. I have some people who read my blog regularly, and they like it! Life is good!

I am not gloating, honestly. I just feel happy today, and I wanted to tell you why.