Gin Wigmore has it

Last night, we were at my friend Anja's birthday party, having some drinks, some laughs, taking some photos, then quickly crowding the camera to  have a look at those photos, and so on. There were only a few of us, so it was like when you go a long holiday with one or two others, and the lineup gets so familiar you have to try and get creative with  poses and expressions (to mix it up). Someone suggested we all pouted, simple enough. No, not really - we had to try and re-try and re-try because the weakest link (me) was ruining it. Involuntary! I never knew, but I can't pout.

I can get grumpy,

pack a sad,

pretty sure I've kissed a couple of people,

so what have I been doing all my life?

After a series of unsuccessful attempts, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses became a whirring blur around me as my mind began to race. Memories came flooding in of the day I realised I couldn't roll my tongue, or wink. The shame of having to whisper to my drama teacher that picking me to be the murderer in wink murder would just defeat the purpose of the game, and her nodding back sympathetically.

Whyeeeeee??!

So I got to thinking about pouting. At home I googled it, and found out that techically it's:

'A protrusion of the lips, especially as an expression of sullen discontent'.

I remembered a friend saying that you just had to say 'prawn' and you were pouting, I thought about famous pouts like Angelina and Posh. But it was getting a bit forced, my lips were dry from all the work and my eyes beaten by images like this:

Honestlyyyyyyy

And even though I felt sulky about the fact that I couldn't pout, I had no idea how I was expressng that, since there's no pout stock on hand, I was probably grinning.
xx