My daughter turns 8 in January.
Like millions of other parents I am dutifully arranging her party and making sure she feels special on her birthday whilst trying not to spend the GDP of a small country in the process. This year is different however, this year I’m excited about the day and I’m also sad because I cannot believe how quickly my beautiful little girl is growing up. This sounds really normal and you are probably wondering why I’d bother blogging about it except for me it’s not. It’s a brand new feeling. The last seven years have passed in a blur of “going through the motions” and plastering a big fake smile on my face as I carry in her cake.
This time eight years ago I was thirty eight weeks pregnant and had that slightly desperate and fed up look of a woman about to give birth. I’d sailed through pregnancy which is an appropriate phrase as I was the size of an ocean liner but I was excited and ready for the big event. When my labour finally started I was two weeks overdue and I thought I was ready but nothing could prepare me for what lay ahead. Read more…
And I’m ready to leave the house
I’ve always been a bit scabby if I’m honest. Puberty kicked in at 13 and so did a face full of spots and a delightfully embarrassing flaky scalp. Head and Shoulders didn’t shift it, Medicated Tar Shampoo that stank to high heaven didn’t shift it, throwing a huge tantrum before school definitely didn’t shift it and much to my dismay moving out of my terrible teens and into my 20s didn’t shift it either.
I’ve spent years brushing off my shoulders, avoiding black tops and spending a fortune on a rather glamorous hat collection. (it wasn’t all bad.) So it is with ridiculous joy that I hear my faithful hairdresser say to me today ‘your scalp is as clear as whistle’.
I love my hairdresser. He has been with me 7 good years. Its one of the longest and most committed relationships I’ve ever been in. I would never cheat on him. I even trek up to London to see him and that’s a biggy cause the London transport system and I do NOT get on.
I trust Craig with my hair. This is equivalent to saying I trust him with my life. A womans hair is her crown and I now wear mine with pride. Yes Craigs dedication and care is partly responsible but so are the changes I’ve made in my life. Read more…
Laura and I were in a shoe shop (we are natural women with killer shoe collections) and a teenage girl entered the shop with her boyfriend. We smelt her before we saw her. She smelt of fake strawberries and other sweet childish stuff. She was actually orange and had obvious hair extensions, fake nails and more make-up than Madame Jojo’s and it got us thinking. Is this what sexy is now?
I asked husband for his opinion. Always an interesting place to start. He blames low grade mainstream porn mags like Nuts and Zoo magazine for telling guys that’s what’s sexy. But these guys are missing a trick too. It takes courage to stand out and say “that’s not what I want” when society deems it to beautiful and without that on your arm you are apparently a loser. We are being told what’s sexy but actually sex appeal is a transient often intangible force combined of many different qualities. I’ve done my research and it seems to be a combination of talent, personality, presence, style, poise, intelligence, humour and lifestyle choices not just body shape or facial attributes. Certainly no one mentioned fake tan and nails. Read more…