What I Wore: Ibiza Day #4 - Possession.

I have a problem.

You guysssss, you know I told you the other day that I'd learnt my lesson and was going to put the heels away, having discovered that the pavements in Ibiza are not heel friendly?

Well, yeah.

I um, may or may not have donned a huge pair of skyscraper heels this evening, and not even cared.

My will, ladies, (and gents) had crumbled.

I just don't know what possessed me, I would rather fall and break my ankle with my heel stuck down one of those annoying grooves in the pavement, (why, Ibiza, why?!) than wear flats with this dress.

(Lies, I had flats in my bag and lasted one hour before deciding I'd rather wear them and look bad, than have an uneven tan due to having one leg in plaster.

Snm.)

So yeah.

That first hour night was full of darkness and danger for me...would my poor legs survive the night?

Only time would tell.

There had been a bigger and more pressing issue though, just a couple of months ago, when once again my will was tested to the limit...

Let's just say I went slightly hungry during this month, and slightly crazy due to lack of houmous consumption.

If any of you know me personally, you will know I have a bit of a thing for Hamsa hands.

I don't know what it is, just their symbolism, meaning and general prettiness makes me want them!

I.Want.Them.

I crave their protection from you know, all that evil stuff out there on like, the streets of Ibiza and that.

The ACTUAL streets and pavements of Ibiza maybe.

(Wearing this is DEFO the reason why I didn't break my leg, )

You know Gollum from Lord of the Rings?

Yeah.

There I was, innocently sat there, filling my basket on ASOS, ready to click on the evilness that is the red cross in the right corner in frustration, (as I often do when I remember that I actually will need to eat before payday) when I came across, this piece of Motel perfection.

WOMAN POSSESSED.

In an instant I felt my hair falling out and myself turning into some sort of creepy, weird, shrivelled up creature, (I'm creepy and weird for even writing this, I know)  my teeth became the kind of stumps that no amount of Colgate could fix, and I'm quite certain that I did in fact become male, owed to the sudden lack of boobage and ermm...other reasons.

Either way, I didn't care.

I wanted...needed...*growly voice* THE PRECIOUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Monochrome - check.

Flattering neckline - check.

HAMSA HANDS - OH MY GOD CHECK CHECK CHECKKK.

I skulked towards my laptop and shuffled shiftily as close to the screen as my scary self could, so my oversized and oddly protruding green eyes could fixate on their precious prey.

As I planned how best to style my new comb-over with this beauty of this dress, my extraordinarily longgg fingers showed no mercy, and clicked on the forbidden button.

The forbidden button that is *gulp* the 'checkout' button.

:|

Before I knew it I was leaping around my living room, making strange squealing noises, feeling extremely proud with my new, oh so precious purchase.

Such a precious purchase.

I awaited delivery day with baited (and I suspect very smelly) breath.

Now here is where my beloved Hamsa hand comes into play, with its sneaky little protection ability.

My dress arrived promptly, and I was going wild.

My comb-over was flailing around even more than my freakily long fingers, and though I don't normally condone jumping on the furniture, I did.

I was possessed people, self control was a myth to me!

Thing is, the dress didn't fit my new body.

I flailed more and more and cried over the precious.

I wailed like a screaming goblin and got a right dodgy look off my mum, suggesting disownment was close.

(I'm sure she also doubted paternity and/or any kind of parental responsibility at this point, and even contemplated phoning Jezza, or perhaps MI6)

But alas, the multiple Hamsa hands decorating my new dress came to the rescue.

Protecting me from the beast that was ermm...myself.

Before I could hold it up in the air and proclaim the precious to be gone, I was transformed.

Like the fairy godmother from Cinderella, the decorative delights of my dress transformed me back into something that resembled both a female, and well, ME!!

I was cured.

I felt my teeth returning, (unfortunately my wisdom teeth too, shame) and my comb-over becoming less of a comb-over, and more of an actual head of hair.

Best of all, MY DRESS FIT!!!

Oh miracles of the world, I was cured, and my splurge had paid off!

I sneakily celebrated in a non-wailing way that was respectful of my mums sofa, and planned to pack this in my suitcase for Ibiza, where on night number four, I wore it like this:

What I Wore:

Dress: ASOS/Motel Rocks £32 but NOW IN THE SALE for £19

Shoes: Dorothy Perkins via my lovely friend Mary ;) *technically free, makes up for it right?*

Necklace: eBay £4.79

Anklet: Little Ibiza Store €3

Sunglasses: New Look £4.99

Earrings: New Look £1.50

This dress cost me um...£32.

Over my entire monthly budget.

But like, it wasn't me, okay?!

I'm an innocent victim.

I'm a victim of shopaholicness.

And this.

(An actual webcam screen shot taken of me upon discovering the precious in the ASOS dress section.)

source

As Shaggy would say, 'It Wasn't Me'.

On my face graced the usual, but with some added MAC Ruby Woo pizazz, because I loveeee a good red lip, even if it is both more Wintery, and less holiday-eee.

Plus, it goes with this dress in the same was that salami goes with cheese.

Mmmmm...

Talking of food, having used up more than my monthly clothes allowance, I ummm, might just have gone a little hungry and houmous-less during the month of this purchase.

Totally.

Worth.

It.

Nowadays, I'm much more cautious when I dare to type the name of fashion websites into my browser; I'm worried that one day something will take my fancy and I will once again lose control.

I'm worried that one day such an item won't be blessed with a design so powerful, it can unwarp my DNA and make me human again.

I fear I will be stuck, whatever I buy won't fit me, and I'm pretty sure neither heels nor flats would be an option, whatever the terrain.

I fear such a day will come all too soon, and my possession will return in an attempt to buy me more actual possessions.

*Declares houmous new 'precious' and decides food shall always remain of greater importance than clothes.

Has to work, right?*

(Gives permission for any readers to relocate me to nearest volcano should I fail)

Always knew there was a reason why I hated Lord of the Rings.