With my glad rags on and plenty of makeup, I ended up looking quite fabulous for my first Christmas function of the year last night. One of the surgeons was reasonably well oiled by the time we chatted later in the evening. “This is Kirsty, everyone: she is the most glamorous anaesthetist in Wellington!” “Oh you’re too kind – and what about Cathy C?” (A gorgeous tall stylish South African colleague) He thought hard for a moment, and then conceded that I was right: Cathy was the more glamorous one. But I’d definitely be up there in the top five!
He then spent the next twenty minutes berating me for sometimes riding my moped to work, which I’ve done about three times in the last ten years. “…and you don’t even know how to ride it properly! The last time I saw you, you were wobbling all over the place. If you were my wife, I wouldn’t allow you to ride it at all.”
So, does that count as pride coming before a fall? Or just another example of why other people’s drunken opinions should always be taken with a grain of salt? Anyway, I’m quite happy to be thought of as even a little bit glamorous. The motorbike comments are clearly just jealousy.
Interestingly he wasn’t the first surgeon to express surprise that my husband should allow me to ride my scooter – and nice guys, too. Am I meant to be impressed at their masterful manliness? On the contrary, I’d be highly irritated to be told what to do. It’s almost like I’m an entirely autonomous individual.