When we were kids our wonderful mama would often utter the line “you do look a ducky” generally whenever Victoria or I came out of her bedroom dressed in an item of her clothing, a hat or other comedy accessory.
Fast forward 30+ years and today I find myself uttering those very same words as I catch a glimpse of myself in the window of a car parked outside my office.
Five minutes earlier I had left my apartment, washed, groomed, relatively smartly attired (I’m wearing a dress today along with the obligatory flipflops) and ready for another day being a HR & Training Professional (whatever that may mean).
On arriving at work, the sight that greeted me however gave no indication that this was in fact the case. Staring back at me through the tinted window was a dishevelled, sweaty bird looking distinctly like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards.
Not satisfied with this level of ‘ducky looking’ I then proceeded to hoik my dress half way up my thighs revealing my very unsexy but practical short leggings as I lumbered up the stairs to the office.
Once at my desk I flicked on Facetime in order to properly check out how I was looking in the vain hope that the Lexus window glass had somehow created an ugly distortion of reality. But no, there staring back at me was a woman looking a proper ducky. I might as well point out that by this point I am sporting a microfibre towel on my head, my dress is tucked in my shorts and I’m standing like a starfish in front of the A/C.
An hour or so later and a version of professional looking Sara is back. The cycling shorts are again covered up, I can now wear my glasses again without them sliding down my nose, my hair is slightly less sweat matted and I generally look slightly less like death warmed up.
It’s short lived though as both lunch and home time will see the return of ducky in all her dishevelled, sweaty glory as life in Cambodia continues one bonkers adventure at a time.