We all have likes and dislikes, some of us have phobias. Snakes, spiders, I know someone who even has a phobia of sliced tomatoes.
Mine sadly is Dwarfs.
I know, I am a horrid person. I wish I didn't but I do. For that reason I have never seen, read or touched The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings is safe from my prying eyes. I go out of my way not to infect my children with my phobia and am completely aware it is some bigoted ism' but I just can't help myself, I hate em. It is all I can do to stop my self bashing them with shoes.
Over the years my shame has spread across the Hall of Plenty much to the amusement of my colleagues I have endured the jokes and even one particular day when Miss Marple had stuck an entire collection of Trolls in the drawers.
They have however always made sure I do not embarrass myself or insult any of our smaller customers with great sympathy.
So imagine my confusion when I arrived back after lunch to the anxious faces of an entire shop floor. My two o'clock make over had arrived. And yes, she was.
Not small, TINY, hairy with a hump and a glass eye.
Under such circumstances it has long been my way to think of Saint Princess of Diana. If she can shake a stump, I can make over a dwarf. So with gritted teeth and a box of tissues on hand, I made her beautiful.
A very lovely person, with a lot to say. In her tiny high pitched voice.
After 45 minutes I had never been so drained. Leaving her to arrange her purchases with my colleagues, I made my way to the beauty rooms in the store. On finding an empty one I let rip to the full force of my emotions. Congratulating myself on how well I had done, I rearranged myself to exit the room, only to discover my little friend had followed me to thank me for being so nice.
Thank god for sound proofing.
The irony is not lost on me or this bottle of wine I am half way through!
