Chick's pick

Heart my job... Yesterday morning, when everyone else was eating sad cereal at their sad desks moaning morbidly about their miserable monday morning blues, puffy eyes and pile of work, I was in the car oen route to one of my favourite spots in Cape Town for a launch: The Twelve Apostles. After pretty drive along coastal road, Ray-bans on, music blaring, the wind in my hair, sea glistening splendidly, I arrived and was chaueffered from parking spot to marquee, whence I had the above view. Realised immediately I a.) had no friends, b.) was totally under-dressed and c.) still had a stamp on my arm from the club on friday night (totally unclassy amongst a swarm of media representatives). Must've missed the dress code on the launch invite – surely along the lines of: 'Heels, highlights and nine layers of make-up. Boob jobs welcome.' Alone and famished, I proceeded to stuff face with mind-blowing mini brunch goods (which no one else was touching lest it spilt on their designer outfits... or, God forbid, went to their hips!) and stood roasting in the sun inhaling orange juice. (Sensibly decided to forego bubbly. It was 11am on a Monday morning. And I may have visited Caprice the night before. Enough said. Plus the amount of articles at work I would've edited that afternoon would've gone into the minus.) Left with a teeming goodie bag, a boep and a sunburn.

Have been invited away on luxurious retreat at 5-star resort/game farm end of this month. Five days. Eight girls. Unlimited bubbly and chick stuff. 1 x yoga instructor. 1 x masseuse. 1 x chef. 0 x men. Quad bikes. A boat. A pool. A bar. Pool tables... Sounds like some sort of woman's wonderland, a chick's heaven, a gal's pearly gates, a female's fairyland, a dame's dream world...

Before I'd even looked at the price (first mistake) or the fact that I'd have to somehow take a whopping three days' leave (second mistake), I clicked 'attending' and am now a surefire sojourner on said weekend, despite my bank card snarling nastily at me from the depths of my handbag. When I did discover the cost was a small fortune, I skipped lunch today and stashed the R20 in my new '5-Star Fund'. It's a start.

Am so excited. Am so SOoooo excited. Am picturing girls, sunglasses, bikinis, tall glasses of pink bubbly, lazing by the pool with books, gossip and hot tunes. Massages, early-morning yoga, the sounds of nature, the ocean and nail files. Health food, moisturisers... No time. No agenda. Man-free. Bug-free. Traffic-free. Preservative-free. And the best part of it all... A TAN!

Might have to sneak a couple of these Chocolate Cake Pops in my suitcase...