One year ago today I started my blog – two months after my 50th birthday. Call it a midlife crisis if you will; cheaper than buying a sports car and more seemly than running off with the gardener… Keep on reading!
I often go to the supermarket looking like I’ve been sleeping under a railway bridge for a week: hair scraped up, no make-up, tracksuit bottoms, scruffy trainers, pyjama top (I kid you not) and shapeless cardigan (buttoned up to hide the pyjama top!) Keep on reading!
Today I was at the dentist for a filling. My dentist is young, gorgeous and always up for a bit of a chat; so returning for a filling isn’t as bad as it would be if he was ancient and brusque with bad breath and smelly armpits. Keep on reading!
Had been at the gym 10 minutes today when a member of staff came over to tell me that a film crew would be coming in to make a promotional film clip, for You Tube . She then asked if I was ok about being in it. No I chuffing was not!
“Should I leave?” I asked desperately. Keep on reading!
Decided that, as a fully grown adult, I should be able to create a smokey eye when I go out wearing full make up (full make up as opposed to last night’s mascara, smudged eyebrows and a look of apology). On numerous occasions I’ve attempted to get the smokey, sultry look – and failed every time. I invariably end up looking like I should be spending my evening standing on a street corner, propping up a bar scaring innocent young men or draped around a pole – having first tried to stuff my middle-aged muffin top into ridiculously tiny bits of lace.
So, in the supermarket today, I headed to the make up counters in search of eye shadow. The palette currently residing in my make-up drawer has been there at least 10 years and includes: bright green and blue, a worn out brush, a cracked mirror and the odd cat hair.
I felt that powder eye shadow was probably best; cream tends to congeal in my eyelid creases, point-blank refuses to blend and has been absorbed into my body within an hour of being applied. I fleetingly dabbled with colour tattoo eye make-up a while ago. The problem with this however, is that it won’t come off. Red, watery, puffy eyes is a look I can manage on my own thanks without the aid of a cotton wool pad soaked in industrial strength cleanser and 10 minutes of
scrubbing gentle dabbing.
Found a stand with little pots of testers in every colour you could imagine. My eyes lit up. Was drawn to an off-white, sparkly one. Carefully extending my finger I placed it into the pot, ready to test its suitability – only to discover that not only was it not eye shadow but that it was actually body shimmer. And therefore, extremely loose and powdery.
Spent rest of my time in the supermarket with a finger nail full of shimmer, a cascade of it down my coat, rogue specks glinting up at me from the tops of my shoes and a firm resolution to give myself a good talking to and give up on the smokey eye, love!
Shampoo why do you lie so much?
What makes you promise me,
That using you will make my hair
The hair I want to see?
You show me lovely images
Of maidens, oh so fair.
You make me think that I can have
Their lovely, flowing hair.
You say you’ll smooth and clarify
Protect, repair and fix.
Relax, hydrate, defend from breaks
And other clever tricks.
You offer volume, body, height
And all things in between.
And obviously my hair will have
A sleek and glossy sheen.
You’ll make my hair more youthful, and
Keep signs of age at bay.
You’ll fix split ends and somehow change
The texture of the grey.
Shampoo for greasy, frizzy, dry
Or flyaway and fine.
Coloured, curly, straight or flat
But which is right for mine?
I choose one and rush home with glee,
Fling back the shower door.
I wash and dry my hair, and yet –
IT’S STILL LIKE BLOODY STRAW!!!
So which misinformed, delusional and frankly bonkers person thought that creating this funny little bottle of wine would be a good idea? 187ml? 187ML?? What the hell use is 187ml? That’s just one glass of wine! Who on earth drinks only ONE glass of wine??
Maybe it’s handy for cooking… Ridiculous! I always buy a normal sized bottle for cooking… Use 100ml in the recipe then drink the other 650ml while opening and closing the oven door a few times; for added effect I wear an apron, strut around with a wooden spoon and occasionally shout out words like saute, simmer and stir-fry.
Well it would be rude to leave an unfinished bottle of wine lying around…unfinished bottle of wine?? Seriously?? Is that actually a thing??
So why did I buy this little bottle? Why indeed. In a misplaced, self-righteous moment of trying to be good, healthy and treat my body like a temple *snorts with laughter* I bought it because I only needed a small amount of wine in the cooking…
I’ve now had to open a normal sized bottle because what was left in this funny little thing, after I’d poured some into the frying pan, just wasn’t going to cut it.
Amusing conversation this morning:
Teenager (heading towards the front door): What’s for tonight’s meal?
Me (waving goodbye from the kitchen): Vegetable curry.
Teenager (swivelling round and hurtling back down the hall with alarming speed): Vegetable curry? VEGETABLE curry? Why are we having vegetable curry?
Me (wiping the table, head down hiding the smile): Because it’s not good to eat meat every day. It’s good to have just vegetables occasionally.
Teenager (starting to panic): So is it curry with JUST vegetables? Literally JUST vegetables? No meat AT ALL?
Me (smiling openly): Correct.
Teenager (using dramatic hand gestures and pacing around the kitchen): But we have vegetables WITH meals EVERY day. We don’t need a meal of JUST vegetables!
Me (walking into the utility room): Our bodies need a rest from digesting meat every day.
Teenager (following, voice rising): Who told you that?? Is that some kind of warped joke? Please put some meat in it. I can’t believe it, that’ll be horrible! It can’t just have vegetables in it. I’m not eating it. You can’t make me eat it. You can eat it. It’ll be disgusting mind. I’ll make something else for my meal…blah blah blah
Me (emptying the washer, glancing over my shoulder): I’m sorry, are you still talking? Darling, you need to go or you’ll be late for school.
Teenager (wild-eyed and stomping back to the front door): I can’t believe it! Why would you do this to me? It’s just not right. It’s…(leaving the house, with a little help from me)
Me (closing the door): Bye sweetheart. Have a nice day.
Headed upstairs, musing about tonight’s meal – Maybe I should present it as a picture, like I used to when they were little: The Mona Lisa Madras, The Poppy Field Pasanda or maybe The Sunflowers Sag Aloo? *laughed to self and tutted* Unfortunately my skills in the field of art are as advanced as my tolerance in the field of pandering to fussy teenagers. So my efforts would end up more like a Masala Mush, a Balti Blob or – if they’re really lucky – a Dhansak Dollop.
Came back downstairs, made a cup of coffee, switched on computer and typed into Google – ‘Vegetable meals with no meat in them WHATSOEVER…’