D'ouh

I got stuck in a dress in a fitting room today. I was attempting shopping and I'm in a fat mood at the moment. But still I wasn't being irrational or over optimistic, the dress was my size and on a non fat free day I wouldn't have had a second thought about trying it on. But alarm bells should have rung when there was about gizillion of this particular style on the SALE RACK. Lisa, listen...alarm bells!

And I should have listento those alarm bells again when I had trouble even getting it on. I reached that point of no return, after I'd squished my boobs into unnatural positions to pull the thing over my head. A nano second later with a resounding ..."nah.." I started rewinding the getting-the-dress-on process. But things went from bad to worse quickly. First off I'm very claustrophobic. It stems from my childhood when The Sister enjoyed holding me down usually with a blanket over me, trapped and I'd end up usually doing a little bit of wee in my pants through the ensuing hysteria and screaming. Sometimes she would add to her fun by tickling me as well which made the wee situation even worse. So I'm reversing the boob squashing technique but that's not working, I am well and truly wedged into this nasty dress with no hope or solution. I briefly thought about ripping the thing and then buying it, but that would involve using my arms, which unfortunately were also stuck. Yes, a bit of a predictament. And then of course, the cheery voice..."is everything ok..?...how's that size...?" from the hovering shop assistant. "I'm fine thanks" came my muffled reply. Bloody hell, I was anything but!

At this stage I'm on the verge of a clautrophic panic attack and they are anything but pretty or quiet. I'm sweating. My flesh andboobs are displayed is in all their glory in the many mirrors in the fitting room. But somehow with frantic shimmying and wrestling there is finally that sweet moment of release and relief.

And as I hand it back to the assistant, I casually say "I think I'll just leave it". Damn straight!

When good blogs go bad...

Why people blog is interesting - for some it's a way to share their thoughts and wisdom (hmm, not so the case with mine huh!), for others they like an audience to listen to their stories, for others it may be looking for a way to write and hope that maybe it can help earn a bit of income from doing something they love, and for others it may be a little bit of all of these.
So what about me, what's my reason - there's a few....I love to write, I don't know or care if I'm any good at it, I just feel like I have a "voice" and I have some yarns (or not as is mostly the case) and blogging is a good way of practising and getting confidence in writing. Also I feel that I have a better way of expressing myself when writing than I do when I'm talking. I'm a hopeless speaker, I get a bit all twisted with my words and don't really get my message across that cleverly. This was painfully clear in my former corporate life, when I'd write these (what I thought were fabulous) documents and then need to present them, my audience would generally be a mix of blank faces or worse, furrowed brows. Hit and sunk.
I like reading other people's blogs too, I like looking at writing styles and I often like their thoughts and ramblings. I have just started following a new blog from a TV personality and columnist Sarah Wilson http://www.sarahwilson.com/ - she seems to strike a chord with me in her columns and now in her blog writing. She's honest and earnest. I'll follow with interest for a bit to see how and where she goes. Another I have watched for ages http://www.petiteanglaise.com/. Hmm, now I've had a love/hate relationship with this one - basically it's a english woman living in Paris who had has relationship issues but who famously got fired for writing about her employers in her blog, writing her blog during work time and for writing about a painful relationship breakup minute by minute as it was happening with her partner not only a subject but one of her readers. She then went on to share her busy love life for a while, all until she was conveniently snapped up by a publisher and has written a couple of books. Now with book deal secured, new marriage and baby on her way, she awkwardly blogged for another year, especially to promote book releases or book promotion activity, until in her last blog, she admitted defeat and closed up shop. It had served it's purpose. Her life was no longer scandalous but settled and loads more financially comfortable than what it was before. Over and out for the blog. The cynics amongst us were left with a kind of yicky taste in our mouths. It seemed that the spirit of her blog was kind of self serving. But maybe they all are? Whatever the driver a blog still gets a message out. My blog often has no message, I guess I see it as a way of umm....just chatting. I expect nothing but I get a lot of pleasure when I see I've had visitors to my blog (don't worry - I just see a daily number - no other details) and I get a huge kick when someone responds and comments on my blog (although sometimes The Sister's comments can be a bit...ahem...tart if I have crossed the line, and fair enough, I need a quality control person to tell me to pull my head in and she's perfect for the job as she's had so many years practice with me).
So this is really going nowhere, just thinking and rambling. And chatting.
Thanks for stopping by.

Dreams

It's been 9 months since I kicked my addiction and had my last diet coke. An anniversary to celebrate and reflect on surely? But how come I had a dream last night about having a drink - opening a bottle and pouring a large ice cold glass full. The essence of the dream was ...it's ok to start again, just maybe one drink...every now and again. Yeah right! That's how it starts but that's certainly not what my addiction looks like a couple of weeks down the track.

So banish those dreams and banish those urges. Happy anniversary to me.

The Change

For some reason I seem to have one of those come-out-of-nowhere-stay-forever-big-gross pimples. In fact I'll call it a spot, as it doesn't sound quite as gross or pus'y (that's a hard word to write believe me, that is if it is a word?). It's the kind of spot that has made the kids look twice at my face, and with their god love'em brutal honesty, ask "what's that?" It's the kind of spot that has made me glad to stay at home and if I need to go out, has made me layer the evidence in pan cake thick makeup to miminise my trauma (and you know how attractive a big suspiciously raised blob of foundation on only one part of your face looks).

I've no idea where it's from? I haven't been eating greasy food..much. I'm not going through puberty, my hands are clean...I'm not overly stressed (hmm, maybe apart from the week I've just mentioned in the previous post). What else can cause a big influx of hormones into your body that results in large unslightly spots? Surely not.....the change...???!!! Because I am simply FAR too young for that. Far too young. Although last night I became uncharacterstically warm for a few moments. A HOT FLUSH!!!!!!???

So I was putting the kids to bed and Will had a super greasy face from the pile of extremely healthy 2 Minute Noodles he'd eaten - ok, I know it's the school holidays and I should have more time and inclination to cook nice meals for the boys. So shoot me. I said that he needed to wash his face because having a greasy face may mean that he could get pimples. Like mine. And there, I confronted it, using it, pointing to it, forcing my eldest to look at it. As quick as a flash, he was out of bed scrubbing his face.
There, not all a lost cause.

ps. I was trying to find an image of a large gross pimple to put with this post but believe me, you wouldn't have wanted to experience what I did when searching! You should all thank me.

School Holidays

I have had a tough week. notice how my blogging good intentions suddenly disappeared immediately after outing them! First of all some house guests arrived and unexpectedly stayed a while, which would have been fabulous/awesome had it not coincided with the school holidays and the arrival of Sydneys winter (at the start of October and the school holidays) which resulted in House Bound Fever for all. Then The Husband had a sudden and very sad rushed trip back to NZ which would normally have meant a week of toast and crap TV for me, as well as late night Eclipse reading marathons. However with the house guests unexpectedly staying longer, this couldn't happen, although I was introduced to the joys of Grand Design so it wasn't a completely lost cause. However with my angst building as a result of the change in my routines and all these people around (ok, they may have all been family including my 3 perfect babies) but they are still people. So I did the maths. In 10 days I had been on my own (not including sleep) for 2 hours. And this was for 2 jogs so it doesn't count as quality time. I needed a break and quickly before I imploded resulting in a massive public and messy explosion. How grateful was I when my last remaining house guest left, leaving me and the boys and the mess to ourselves. That night I jubilantly sat in front of hours of crap TV eating icecream, luxuriating with a hot water bottle and Eclipse in bed that night. And this weekend with The Husband home and realising the state I was in (well he had had a few days with the house guests too) I had a number of hours alone, wandering malls aimlessly, trying on clothes I'm too old for, and generally feeling a little old and fat. But I banked it, I was alone and that was the objective. Today, Monday, a new week, just me and my boys, still mostly in our PJs. I am a new woman. I love the school holidays.