Sun, Sex and Gussets

There are lots of little nuggets of advice I would give to people who would find them very useful; don't eat a yoghurt out in the garden if you can't tell the difference between a bit of fruit and a midge; don't trust a dog to jump up onto your lap if you can see tiny little spider legs hanging out of her mouth; don't reveal your feelings to a man until you've been married and settled down for at least five years - no matter how much he urges you to do so. But my important nugget of today (Ooo chicken nuggets, is anyone else thinking of chicken nuggets right now? No? Just me then...) is if you think SPF 40 will protect you from getting burnt - you will be wrong. Parts of my body are actually glowing. There was a time years ago when I couldn't catch the sun at all, and maybe that's either an indication of how bad the state of the ozone layer is, or maybe it's a sign from a higher power saying "Get out of the sun you fucking moron."

I'm having to avoid bra straps, as everytime I move my arms it feels like somebody's running a cheese grater along my shoulders. Still, am I the only one who gets a bit horny in the sunshine? I don't know what it is about the sun and a gorgeous hot day, but instead of sweating and suffocating - I'm getting hot under the collar! Well, if I were to be wearing a collar. I don't understand that expression. If "getting hot under the collar" is an expression used for people getting horny then surely it should more appropriately be "getting hot under the gusset"? I suppose that just isn't a particularly attractive thought. Exercise does the same to me. I don't mean strenuous exercise or having a go at the gym treadmill - I'd be thrown out and have my memberhip revoked if I were to get horny at the gym, but stuff like stretching. I think it's because it sets the blood flowing, and I sure know where the blood flows to when I get stretching! I guess I should sit behind Mr Lycra "ballbags" Pants at my yoga class - the sight of his sack and crack is enough to kill any sexual stirrings.

Of course it could very well be because I've turned into a nun (not literally, I just meant it's been a looooooooooooooooooong time. I don't actually believe nun's don't have sex at some point, how could you abstain from sex for life???). I see sexual innuendos in everything at the moment, although I do try to refrain from saying them out loud as I don't want to be banished to the "Carry On" vault. Thankfully I'm in no danger of developing a Sid James style laugh just yet. As much as I would like to throw off my habit (the nun's habit, not my bad habit) and take advantage of the next poor unsuspecting soul to enter my dating world (although I don't think Mr Z is unsuspecting at this point!) I would still like to declare that I am an honourable woman. You will at least buy me dinner first. Then I will allow you to take advantage and release the beast. In a ladylike fashion.

I'm now off to sit in the fridge for a few hours. My last word? Ouch.