The Devil Wears very old clothes

Today I ran into my version of the Devil Wears Prada (although to get the picture you need to ditch the Prada, add about 100lbs and swap New York for London). I knew it was her from the back of her head and I'm ashamed to say that the very breath was knocked from my body at the sight of the woman who made a year and a half of my life beyond hellish.

I'd heard rumours that she'd lost lots of weight and looked rather glamorous - however I am gleefully happy to report that today the glam version was clearly on holiday. She was just as fat - if not fatter - than she was in the days of torture. She was wearing the same hideous top that she used to wear all those years ago and a pair of trousers which were wedged into places that they really shouldn't have been. AND horror of all horrors her hair (which still gives me nightmares - those who know of whom I speak will fully understand why) was scragged back off of her piggy face with a black velvet scrunchy - yes you heard right - a scrunchy! (how 1993).

I managed to avoid eye contact and looked busy whenever she was in my vacinity - not because I thought she'd unleash the mean after all this time you understand - but because I just could not stand the thought of having one of those insincere conversations that have to be conducted in a high sing-songy voice that belies a meeting of two people who quite clearly hate each other and are wishing that the ground would swallow them whole: "Oh darling, how are you - so lovely to see you (big fake smile), I'm so terribly successful now, working for x,y,z - I hear you're working for xxx, and doing freelance things, how, ummmm, quaint. Oh look there's Sophie - sophie, yooo hooo, sophie - must dash."

I made my escape unscathed. But as I walked away I had a huge urge to run right back and say: "It's lovely to see you looking so,ummm, well (fed). You haven't changed in the slightest. I'm doing marvellously thanks - I have a beautiful home in the country (didn't you always say you wanted to move out of town to somewhere more rural?), I'm getting married to the man of my dreams in a perfect wedding this August (oh yes I remember that's right - you didn't get your dream wedding your husband dragged you off to Vegas for a quicky service in Elvis chapel), work is going well (oh - you gave up freelancing because you didn't have enough work, that's a shame - never had that problem myself), I'm super busy and I have two adorable cats - oh and I'm thinner than you (as ever) and I don't have my trousers wedged up where the sun refuses to shine. Anyhoo - must dash - tootles - mwah!" Oh the beauty of hindsight.