Well, colour me navy...

..and throw me to the corporation.

On top of the usual wobbly fluorescent horror of the changing room, now I look ill as well. My decolletage has developed a canal network and you could sink billiard balls in the pits under my eyes. I want to be orange and red and brown and fabulous. Can I bear to be navy and black and white and employed? Who will they call Ms Kiwifruit now?