Tuesday, December 12, 2006


*Family members and persons of a nervous dispostion please take note: this post contains mild references to my sex life. Read on at your own risk/hilarity.

About two weeks ago, HID and I were invited to my parents for Sunday Dinner. Jumping at the chance of a (free) proper meal, we agreed, even though HID was very busy with DIY on our house, and his uni course. We had a lovely time at dinner, and afterwards, HID whipped out his digital camera to show them the progress he’d made with his DIY projects. (He is very handy, and had done a lot that weekend).

Now don’t ask me why, but I had a horrible feeling about what may or may not be on the memory of that camera. If I am wearing a particularly sexy outfit for a night out, before we leave the house/when we get home, HID will often beg me to let him take a few pictures at funny angles (i.e. cleveage enhancing shots, me twirling in a skirt that shows a hint of my knickers.) Everyone does that right? And I always make sure they are deleted the following day. Definitely….

So why did I get a sinking feeling when my dad suggested popping the memory card into the TV, so we could see the pics on his wide-screen? So I suddenly felt the need to be busy, and out of the room, made myself a drink, got my bag from the hallway. Finally, they dragged me in to look at the pictures. My heart was in my mouth as the slideshow clicked on, and on, but we managed to get to the end with everyone’s dignity in tact.

This weekend, the DIY tasks were pretty much finished, and we were invited round again, this time, both my sisters were there, so we got out the camera again. HID had the memory card in his hand ready to slot into the TV, when my sinking feeling returned. But this time it was more than nagging, it was serious.

“Babe, did you delete those pictures?”

Luckily, my dad was out of the room at the time. Cue a red hue playing about the cheeks of HID, and a sheepish “Oh! No.”

Now, these particular pictures were of me wearing a tutu, with fairly visible black knickers underneath, and a black basque, walking up the stairs, taken from behind. (The photo is taken from behind, for those of you with dirty minds.) From the shots, it looks as though HID has taken them without my knowledge. This is not the case….DIY of a different kind.

I spun a version of this story to my mum and sisters, the youngest of which had been dragged out of the shower to view the pics, so was none too impressed when HID had to painstakingly find and delete said pictures. She was clearly not bothered about my embarrassment. Moreover, HID was gutted he’d not downloaded the pictures beforehand, as they are now non-existant.

My suspicious mind saved me from humiliation! And probably HID getting a severe beating from my dad…..



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