Get frocked. Aka 'what is wrong with the world these days'

*Sigh* Life is so unfair.

Global warming? No.
Rise of the Right? No.
Third World debt? No.
Abuse of the human rights of asylum seekers? No.
Unjust Wars? No.

I'll tell you why.

In my youth, living in a small town we were blessed with op-shops in which you could find genuine 50s and 60s polished cotton frocks. I loved them. I lived in them until they either fell apart or I grew (outwards) too big. I still pine for them- you just can't get the patterns or the material to make them, and they had disappeared from the op shops.

Until now. The frock is back, and walking htrough a suburban shopping mall the other day, there were racks upon racks of gorgeous frocks in every store from Target and Portmans to the beautiful Leona Edmistons in Myer. They... are... EVERYWHERE. This, it seems, is going to be the summer of the frock.

So why the misery? I should be revelling in my favourite fashion of all time. Except for one small thing.

I am no longer a small thing. There are two of us in this body, and no matter how squished and contorted I try to get there is *no way* I am going to fit a frock this summer. Oh! The anguish!!

I'm off to sulk in my stretchy pants and 'gravidity' t-shirt.